Parents From The Playground: Change
by LysPotter
Summary: Hermione Granger and Harry Potter spend the first nine years of their lives without love. Can the remaining Marauders and their wives help? SBxOC, RLxOC, eventually HPxHG
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: As of right now, I have included little of the traditional elements of Harry Potter. Nonetheless, I do not own Hermione, Remus, or anything else you might recognize...I don't even own this computer...sad really.

A/N: I don't know what people think of stories where Hermione's parents aren't sunny, but this just poured out. I have about 50 more pages of this written. I'll post it soon.

Prologue: The Girl at the Playground

The little girl—she didn't look a day older than eight—sat on top of the rusting playground equipment. This piece of equipment was one of those dome-shaped arrangements of short metal bars. The bars were arranged, as was traditional, in triangles—intended to make the climbing more difficult for those children unafraid of heights. But she never noticed. After all, she climbed to the top and sat there every day.

No one ever cared that she was there. Because no one ever _knew _she was there. Her parents hated her—or at least they didn't like her. And she had no friends. She knew she was considered abnormal. And she thought she knew the cause. It was because of that strange flying thing she'd done that one time in the town preschool, wasn't it?

She was wrong. You see, young Hermione Rose Granger knew less than she thought she did—at least on that particular subject. Also known as her parents. Drs. Stephen and Serena Granger, dentists, knew some of the things their brown-haired baby girl had been able to do were unnatural. Hermione didn't. They knew that she wasn't what you'd call a normal child—Hermione knew that. So, they tried to _make_ her be normal. Not by kindness. No. It wasn't cookies and cake. It wasn't approving smiles and warm hugs. They—he especially—tried to beat it out of her. It was no less than abuse.

But, for some reason, Hermione, as precocious as she was, had never actually gone so far as to figure that fact out. She submitted easily to the sharp words and sharper blows of her tyrannical parent, thinking it was for her own good. After all, she was not like other children. Her parents weren't like other parents. They didn't believe she could do no wrong. In fact, the way Stephen and Serena saw it, their daughter could do nothing right. It was not a caring environment. It was not pleasant. It was definitely not lenient. Anything and everything she did was rule breaking.

The eight-year-old girl looked stoically down at the other children and the adults at the tiny, residential-area playground from her high vantage-point. She cast a longing look at the blonde girl who shrieked and giggled as her father chased her through the bottom of the dome, her refuge from home. She sighed heavily and let a tiny tear—just one—fall from her half-closed eyes and run down her cheek. _Her_ father wasn't here. Her father didn't even care if _she_ was here. Her father didn't _know _she was here.

Her sharp, green-hazel eyes, hidden by her curly brown bangs and the tears she wouldn't let fall, failed to notice the man with identical green-hazel eyes, who was scrutinizing her very closely as she sat on top of the dome.

Remus John Lupin hadn't gone to a playground since his childhood, especially a Muggle one. But ever since he'd lost his Ministry of Magic Department of Mysteries job as and Unspeakable—it came to about two weeks ago—he'd been sitting here on the cold metal park bench and watching the rusting, rather pathetic playground. He tried to take in everything, not even sure why he was there. And, of course, being there, he'd noticed the petite, curly-haired brunette who came to the tiny park every single day at exactly three-thirty in the afternoon, set down her backpack—she looked about eight—and climbed to the top of the dome of bars. She would simply sit there, doing absolutely nothing, for an entire hour. He would have thought any child would have been ready to jump around after a day in a desk at a school. But not this girl. Her green-hazel eyes, so like his own, would become unfocused and glaze over, and you could tell the young girl was further and further away from the world of form.

She was never happy, this little girl. She was calm-faced, but it wasn't pleasant calm as would be expected of a child, strangely enough. It was a chilling sort of stoicism, especially from an eight-year-old—or however old she was. He knew there were strange children in the world, but those such as this? He'd never seen anything of the sort. She would only display emotion when she saw other families come to the park and play with their children either underneath her or right in front of her.

The unemployed, philosophical werewolf stared at the little girl as she carefully wiped her pale, wearied face on her long sleeve in the late October chill. His heart went out to the crying child, for reasons he couldn't explain and had no control over. If she hadn't been a complete stranger—and someone else's child—he would have tried anything that would console the girl—he didn't even have a reason to be so protective. The gentle werewolf couldn't think of what to do. But as he debated a course of action in his head, she straightened and dropped from the dome with practiced ease. He didn't see her leave.

Remus stood up, finally making up his mind. He was determined to talk to the enigmatic child, even if he knew nothing of her. But when he looked for the girl, he found that she had disappeared, wraith-like, into the residential, small-town neighborhood.

A/N: It's awfully depressing, but here it is.

Luv, LysPotter


	2. 1 The Silence of Friends

Disclaimer: J.K. does not have to look for her Angst...I do. Just wait till my romance comes along, it's awful. I need to check into a mental hospital, except I'm broke and there's probably an entrance fee...So don't bother suing.

On with the story. Previously...

_Remus stood up, finally making up his mind. He was determined to talk to the enigmatic child, even if he knew nothing of her. But when he looked for the girl, he found that she had disappeared, wraith-like, into the residential, small-town neighborhood._

**Chapter One: The Silence of Friends**, in which Hermione meets Mr. Lupin, Harry remembers Hermione, and Hermione ponders the reality of friends. Completely out of order.

And so it continued for a few more months. The timid girl came, climbed the dome, and sat there, thinking over her strange and arduous life; always wearing long sleeves, often just to hide some fingerprint bruises on her arms. She felt like the situation at her home just got worse and worse. She didn't know what to do.

As for the man, he watched, oh-so-silently. He had started a small job at a local grocery. And he watched the playground girl. The girl would climb down and slip away. The man, for his part, would simply watch.

But sometime in late spring, Hermione's brown bangs parted and her chin went up—she had been thinking of a situation in which she had figured out what was wrong with her. Her clear, green-hazel eyes filled with a lost look of hopelessness met weary but fascinated eyes of the same color.

In the tense, excited moment, a startled Hermione lost her expert grip on the bars. The man, watching still for some reason, saw her slip.

Her mouth opened in a childish "O" of surprise and excitement. She wasn't afraid. Remus didn't notice—he was too busy biting his nails in his own worry for the girl.

Remus was partially right to be afraid for her. The dome was a tall, old-fashioned affair, taller than anything else at the park was. For the worried thirty-one-year-old, it looked like a drop from the summit of Mount Everest.

The child landed on all fours, a little less than expertly, and scrambled to her feet. He rushed into the center of the dome, almost frantically. "Are you all right, miss?" His eyes were checking the obvious places for a cut—her knees and elbows, and he gripped her slender little hands to check her palms and fingers as well. Was she hurt?

Her hazel eyes bored into his. "I'm fine, thank you, sir," she said in a near-whisper, as she snatched her hands back. She nodded politely and timidly to him, turning to leave.

He put a hand on her thin shoulder—why was she so small? She flinched away from his hand. He pulled it back immediately. She didn't leave.

"Sorry, miss," he apologized. "I don't mean to be rude, but what's your name?" he asked politely. The girl cocked her head oddly, but answered nonetheless.

"Hermione," she said very quietly. Remus had to strain to hear her. He didn't question her omission of her last name.

"Remus. Remus Lupin," he reciprocated, offering a hand without giving a thought to it. Shyly, she reached out, gripped his hand, and dropped it immediately. She bit her lip, worried.

"So, Miss Hermione, I've noticed you come here often," he tried to strike up a conversation. _Which is just a polite way of saying I've seen you here every day for about eight months straight. Don't you have anything better to do?_ Remus thought.

"Yes, sir," she murmured. He shook his head very slightly. She was such a perfect child. Her parents, whomever they were, were blessed. She obviously never raised her gentle, musical voice and she had manners some of his old friends could have used. For a moment, he simply looked into her eyes. _The eyes are windows to the soul_, he quoted to himself. He could see very little in these eyes. The intensity of understanding, the only thing he saw in their green-hazel depths, spoke of an age much greater than he would assume.

"Call me Remus. Do your parents every come to watch you?" he asked curiously. Her face flushed, faded, and her eyes became guarded. He cursed himself. _Stupid question._

"Sometimes," she said vaguely. "Not very often, though." And there he saw it. The quick flash of sorrow that was pushed aside promptly. "Thank you for helping me, sir. Mr. Lupin," she said very politely, and was gone before he could say anything else.

"But I didn't do anything," he said. Then, noticing she was gone, "How does she do that?" he muttered.

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That night, Hermione accidentally caused the plastic container her mother had been holding to levitate—there was no other word for it—and Serena hadn't been able to reach it. Stephen pulled his daughter into the hall and asked her, none too politely, what in the name of _God_ she thought she was doing. Her quiet, "Nothing, Daddy," didn't suffice. "Don't mess with your mother's things," he ordered, and slapped the girl across the face. "You know I don't want to have to get my belt out tonight. I haven't had to use it yet this month. I'd watch myself if I were you, Hermione Rose." The frightened girl nodded, telling whatever was inside of her to keep from doing anything that would further infuriate her father. This restriction only made the fiery tickle inside her shatter an heirloom glass bowl in the next room. Stephen forbade her dinner and gave her a look that promised worse later.

As Hermione sat quietly in her top-floor bedroom, troubled, but waiting for her father to show up with his favorite belt, she thought about that day. Mr. Remus Lupin. Who was he? What was he doing at the park? Was he supposed to be spying on her? Did her father not want her to go to the park anymore? No, if that were it, he would tell her. In no uncertain terms, no doubt. Plus, no one her father knew had ever talked to her like that. The only adults she met were the people who came to the Grangers' home for Stephen and Serena's dinner parties. The only children she met were the ones at school, who ignored the quiet girl in the back row. She, for some reason, had started to deliberately botch up her schoolwork—just to fit in. While her near-perfect grades before had pleased her volatile father, they now made him even more upset. But Hermione didn't want to call attention to herself at school. Calling attention to herself was worse than lower grades—the beating would escalate. She didn't have any friends there anyway.

Maybe that was the way things were supposed to work for her in Little Whinging. She didn't belong. No one talked to her, unless it was to tell her she'd done something wrong. Maybe there was someone else enough like her to get along in a big city. Obviously, there wasn't one here. She heard footsteps on the stairs and backed into the corner of her room just as the door opened ominously.

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The next day, at exactly three-thirty as always, Hermione celebrated the end of school by climbing the dome still wearing her heavy end-of-school-year backpack. When she reached the top, she noticed that a boy from her class at school who was in her class had matched her for speed and was also at the top of the dome. She couldn't remember his name, but she knew he also tried to keep a low profile at school.

The boy, who had messy black hair and emerald-green eyes behind broken glasses, ducked his head and apologized quietly. Hermione shook her head. "There's nothing wrong," she murmured softly. "The playground is here for everyone who wants to use it. That doesn't just mean me." She berated herself mentally for never thinking that anyone else might make it to the top of this dome during her frequented time. She felt bad for being so selfish.

He didn't respond, and she didn't continue. The two children sat there, surveying the rest of the playground. Neither one said anything, but the silence wasn't awkward. They were more comfortable without words than they would have been with words.

Hermione started when her eyes found Remus Lupin, the man from the day before, sitting on the park bench, reading a newspaper. Did he come here very often? The boy looked at her quizzically. She shook her head.

They sat there for about a quarter of an hour before Mr. Lupin even looked in their direction. Hermione had chosen a smiling, happy family that frequented the park in the early afternoons as that day's focus—for her eyes at least. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, that the boy next to her was also watching the family. She wondered why he was here. And he sat in such careful silence, unlike the other, rowdy boys that came to the park. Was he here for the same reasons she was? She didn't want to ask. She was too afraid of what he might think of her.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement caught the brunette's sharp eye. Mr. Lupin had stood up, apparently without realizing it, as his newspaper had fallen out of his lap and hands and onto the ground. He wasn't watching her this time, but instead staring at Harry. He appeared very shocked and disheveled for someone who had come to the park perfectly groomed. His eyes were enormous, opened to their full extent, a rather alarming effect. He was undoubtedly watching her companion.

The boy himself didn't notice—or simply didn't care—because he was still watching the family as they frolicked happily in the old rusted playground. Hermione thought it'd be best to let the boy from school and Mr. Lupin figure out what was going on for themselves, and quite prudently didn't say anything about the surprised man to the black-haired boy wearing the round broken glasses.

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It couldn't be! Harry, living here in Little Whinging, the unassuming little Muggle town it was? And, to think that he himself had been living just a short walk away from this same park. Wouldn't he have seen him? Why hadn't he checked? Was he really that self-absorbed? He saw the Hermione girl from yesterday sitting next to him. Did Hermione know him at all? Who was raising him? Hundreds of thousands of questions ran quickly through his head, flashing through a whirlwind moment, his consciousness landing on one and then another.

He was hurrying toward the fateful dome for the second time in as many days. He couldn't even remember standing up. And where was his paper? He needed to read more about the front-page topic. It had him worried…Did the Hermione girl see him? Did she recognize him? Did _Harry_ recognize him?

The girl in question sat there, placidly but pointedly staring at the ground where a laughing father was chasing a redheaded girl. He remembered the little girl vaguely from other trips to the park. He stepped up next to the dome, staring up at the boy he'd met in the hour after he was born. "Harry?" he tried to call, but all that came out was a croaking whisper, like the word was caught deep in his throat. The boy heard him anyway and looked down at the man, confused but intrigued that this stranger apparently knew his name.

And Remus was thrown into the worlds of memory.

There they were, the eyes—so like Lily's own, identical brilliant emerald green orbs. There were the glasses—just like the ones James had worn. The hair, which looked like it had been transplanted right from his dead father's head. Remus was thrown out of the past with a jolt, however, when Harry said in his boyish voice, "Excuse me, sir…but, er, do I know you?" Young Hermione, sitting on the bars next to him, leaned forward, interested.

"No…no, you probably don't remember me. I was your parents' friend before they were killed," he explained. _You probably don't remember that either, but I'm sure you've been told about it. _And the interested light went out of Harry's eyes.

Hermione was watching this very closely. The boy—Harry, she remembered now, Harry Porter, or something like that—looked a little uncomfortable. "You mean when they got in that car crash," he interpreted. "Aunt Petunia thinks it was my dad's fault." Mr. Lupin looked shocked.

Hermione felt more than a little bit sorry for Harry. "Your parents died in a car crash?" she asked sympathetically. What a horrible way to go. An accidental collision or some such thing. Then she remembered the polite phrase her parents had taught her to use when she knew that someone else's or some such person had died. "I mean, I'm sorry for your loss," she corrected herself, hoping she didn't sound completely stupid and disconnected. Knowing she probably did anyway was not a comforting thought.

"Oh, er, I, uh, I'm over it," Harry said awkwardly. Hermione noticed he seemed to be trying to put what he was trying to say politely. "They…er…they died when I was one, so I don't remember much about them. I didn't get to see very much of them." Hermione nodded, understanding the boy's thoughtful expression now. He looked back at Mr. Lupin. "I'm sorry for interrupting, sir. Did you want to say anything more?" Hermione cocked her head, fascinated by the turn this simple conversation was taking.

Lupin seemed to be trying to collect himself. Hermione almost laughed, before remembering that it was completely rude. She held in her smiles, not wanting to infuriate the man who had been, strangely enough, the object of her thoughts that day at the park, rather than her customary dread of the commencement of the summer holiday.

"Oh, right. Harry, would you like to come down so we can talk on an equal footing? Um, Hermione, if that is you, it would be nice if you came down as well." In unison, Harry and Hermione dropped to the ground. Lupin stepped back, surprised.

"Lily wouldn't have liked that," he remarked. Harry looked at her oddly, and Lupin shook his head in disbelief. "You know your mother's name was Lily, don't you?" Harry looked a little worried, but then nodded.

Hermione was captivated by the tale that had come out of this man and the boy beside her. He—the boy—had a mother named Lily (which was, coincidentally, one of her favorite names) and was meeting a perfectly strange—but kind—man as one of his parents' friends? Hermione would have been ecstatic, for her part. She watched the raven-haired boy.

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Remus had never expected to find Harry in a playground he had—strangely enough—been visiting for months. He had never suspected that Albus Dumbledore would put Harry in this town. He had been simply sitting on the dome with the same practiced ease as Hermione, so he suspected the boy was a frequent visitor to the park.

He led the children over by a clump of trees. Harry was watching him intently, his green eyes fixed on the man's own. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on the ground under her feet. Remus was confused. Why was everything so complicated nowadays?

He took a seat on a low branch of the evergreen in the clump. Hermione, who seemed to be the shyer of the two, hung back as Harry sat himself comfortably on the ground. "Have a seat, Hermione," Remus invited, reaching his hand out to help her onto the branch, possibly a little faster than he had originally intended. He didn't stop to think about the reactions she'd had to touch before.

Just before his hand made contact with her arm—she was looking more and more panicked by the second—a sudden wall of shimmering silver fire appeared in front of her. Before he could pull back his hand, the fire stung him.

Hermione yanked down the shield-like projection immediately, her face a startled mask. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—really, I shouldn't have—I'm so sorry, sir, did I hurt you?" she was babbling, frightened for some reason. Remus's green-hazel eyes were wide, the sting in his fingers not bothering him anymore.

Remus had never seen such a feat of unintentional underage magic, especially from someone her age. The girl was obviously a Muggleborn witch, as a wizarding child would have been overjoyed—so overjoyed that they would be screaming through the roof that they'd done it and would be the best student at Hogwarts.

"Dad's going to be furious when he hears about this," she was murmuring. Remus was thoroughly baffled. Wouldn't her parents be overjoyed as well—but no, not if they were Muggles, they wouldn't.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to startle you," he said courteously. The girl looked at him, her eyebrows coming together in a child's look of confusion. "But your being able to do that makes this conversation much easier—on all three of us." Hermione was sill watching him in confusion. He cleared his throat, hoped Dumbledore never found out that he'd done this, and said quietly, "You're magical, both of you. You have and can do magic."

Hermione gaped, but pulled her jaw up quickly. Harry's eyes were enormous, and he looked like he was ready to yell in his excitement and surprise.

"But, Mr. Lupin—I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude—" Hermione said. Remus smiled inwardly. _Trust me, Hermione, you couldn't be rude if you _did_ mean to._ "But—how is that—possible?"

"Call me Remus. You both saw what Hermione just did," Remus said. Hermione hung her head. _I hope there's never a situation where that's necessary to keep you safe, especially at home, _he thought, knowing there probably was for her to shrink so quickly from positive human touch. He resolved to ask her about it, some time when she was a little less tense. "That's called an Automatic Defense Mechanism by technical wizards, and a magical shield by those of us who aren't quite so technical."

"So they use this often?" Hermione asked tentatively, almost frightened. "Not meaning to interrupt, sir. Mr. Lupin."

"You weren't interrupting—call me Remus. And yes, they do. I understand that your parents are not magical? They don't do magic?" Hermione shook her head. "Ah. You are a magical child of what we wizards call Muggles, or people who can't do magic. You would be referred to as a Muggleborn. It's just a label that means your parents don't have enough magical potential in their bodies to use it on a daily basis as wizards and witches and other magical creatures do." He turned to face Harry alone as he sat on the ground. Hermione, he noticed with a half-smile, was still standing. "Harry, your mum and dad _were_ magical. Lily's parents were Muggles, but James came from an ancient wizarding family." He smiled wryly at this. "My mother was a half-blood—one of her parents was a Muggle—and my father was a wizard. I'm what they would call a part-blood—those of them that care. The people who care aren't worth talking to. Because all that doesn't infringe on your ability to do magic—that is—"

"It doesn't make it any more difficult to perform," Hermione murmured, shyly, then shut her mouth. "Sorry for interrupting again, sir. Mr. Lupin," she said, dipping her head in apology.

"No problem, Miss Hermione, I couldn't have said it better myself," Remus said with a quiet smile. "Call me Remus." These children were so tentative. Harry didn't say anything, and Hermione constantly corrected herself when she did. He went on, patiently explaining the _real_ circumstances of James and Lily's deaths—at which point Harry found his voice again, which didn't surprise Remus really, because that was the part of the story that really mattered to him.

"But Aunt Petunia told me they died in a car crash?" he asked. "How could this—Voldemort fellow—cause a car crash?" Hermione also looked puzzled over the question.

"Unless he worked with their brains or something, it'd be impossible," she agreed. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to interrupt," she apologized bashfully.

"'S all right—uh, Hermione, right? Hermione Granger?" he asked. Hermione nodded. Remus grasped the information and locked it tight in his head. He wanted to use that last name at some point.

"Your Aunt has been lying to you, Harry," Remus said evenly. "James and Lily were murdered when you were just fifteen months old—Halloween seven years ago. A few days later, your Aunt Meghan on your father's side was killed by one of his followers. He would have killed her in person, but, Harry, you defeated him. No one knows how, but as a little one-year-old baby, you defeated the Darkest wizard of the times."

"I haven't defeated anyone," Harry protested. "I haven't even defeated Dudley. You must have the wrong person, Mr. Lupin. I can't have defeated this Voldemort man, or whatever he is."

"Not meaning to contradict, of course, Harry, but you see, the entire wizarding world knows this to be fact. You're a wizarding would hero." Remus smiled. "And call me Remus."

Harry needed a bit of convincing before he was ready to believe Remus.

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Hermione sat silently, no longer interrupting, transfixed by Lupin's tale—true story, she had to remind herself. A whole world of people who were just like her? With—dare she say it?—magic? She wanted to believe it, but just couldn't. Were their parents all like hers—constantly disapproving? Did they think their children shouldn't be doing the magic? Were they actually _happy_ and pleasant about their children doing this—magic?

They must be, if they could do it as well, she thought. They couldn't dislike their children for doing something they themselves did, could they? Why didn't her own parents understand?

Oh, right. They were what Lupin had called Muggles—non-magic folk. No wonder they didn't understand what was going on with her. But she wasn't going to try to explain everything to them. That would be what her father called cheek, and cheek was not to be tolerated. She didn't want a repeat performance of last night. Her body ached all over—especially her back. She left the park still thinking everything over.

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A/N: Hermione's always thinking...I think this story makes me depressed...

Luv, LysPotter


	3. 2 Anything Is Possible

Disclaimer: JKR would never put her characters through what I do. She would also never make the Grangers such aholes. I am an awful writer--JKR is a bestseller. Who is the one writing on her mother's borrowed computer at 9pm? Moi...I think I've made my point. I don't ownie...don't suey. I chop suey.

Previously:

_Oh, right. They were what Lupin had called Muggles—non-magic folk. No wonder they didn't understand what was going on with her._ _ But she wasn't going to try to explain everything to them. That would be what her father called cheek, and cheek was not to be tolerated. She didn't want a repeat performance of last night. Her body ached all over—especially her back. She left the park still thinking everything over._

**Chapter 3: Anything Is Possible**, in which the Blacks make a comeback and Hermione is frightened of tyrannical parents.

"Hermione Rose!" called her father sharply. Hermione hurried down the stairs of the Magnolia Crescent home, bemoaning her sluggishness. She was going to be late to the dinner table. Again. And she was going to be in trouble for it. Again.

"What have I told you about being prompt to the supper table?" her father asked sternly. Hermione hung her head, ashamed that she had once again bungled her day. Would she ever learn to go about living the right way?

"Being prompt to the table shows good manners and refinement. Lateness shows a certain degree of vulgarity and a lack of concern for others' feelings," she recited from memory. "I'm sorry, Dad," she added quietly.

"Apology accepted. Please have a seat," he said, to her surprise. They said grace and began to eat. "Now, Serena, how was your day?" her father asked her mother. The brunette woman launched into an epic story about her day, just as she did at every supper. Hermione tried her hardest to appear attentive, even though the story was the same day after day. Lack of attention showed a lack of respect for the speaker. But the days of her mother were always full of root canals and ritual dental cleanings.

Her father went next, and his day's summary was much the same as her mother's, as usual. Hermione quietly cut her chicken as she listened.

"Well, Hermione Rose, how was your day?" he asked her when he had finished telling Serena about a particular patient that always afforded the husband-wife dentist team a laugh. She swallowed the mouthful of spinach before she replied.

Her story was painfully brief, and she didn't go overly into detail as she described the day from when she left home to when she returned home. "Well, I finished school today. We had a ceremony to celebrate the commencement of the summer holiday before we left. I went to the park and talked to one of my classmates after school."

"Thank you, Hermione." The meal continued with her parents' discussion of work and her respectful silence. She felt guilty. She had left Mr. Lupin and their discussion out of her account. She should not have withheld any information, especially such an important part of her day. She berated herself mentally, but still felt no need to add it to the story of her day. She'd then have to explain magic, and she wasn't brave enough to do that.

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Harry James Potter lay in the cupboard under the stairs in number four Privet Drive, staring at the ceiling of the cupboard. Magic? Voldemort? What was all this supposed to mean? Why did he seem to remember Mr. Remus Lupin—but under a different name, some sort of a nickname? He almost remembered the face of the kindly man…he assumed he must have seen him at least once before when his parents were still alive.

He hoped he hadn't seemed too desperate for news and stories of his parents and their friends. All he had known of his parents were their names and the false circumstances of their deaths. Even the latter had been shattered today.

He applied himself to counting the spiders that crawled over him in the dark, not wanting to dwell on the information he now he had of his parents and the strange man he seemed to know named Remus Lupin.

_Four…five…six…oh, there's two more, that's eight. One for every year of my life. Oh, look, there goes one back again. That leaves seven. Seven—one for every year I've spent without my parents._ Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. His eyelids drooped. He let them fall. _Please, please,_ he thought. _Let me dream about my parents for once. I want to see them again._ For the first time in most of those seven years, Harry Potter fell asleep with a smile on his pale, thin face.

Dream Sequence 

_Harry felt the oddest sensation. It seemed that he was seeing through someone else's eyes. He saw a black-haired man that looked nearly identical to himself—older, of course, but the man would have been his twin except for his hazel eyes. Somehow he knew the man was his father. A red-haired woman entered the room, just as he noticed his host body was crying. As soon as he saw her emerald-green eyes—the same shade as his—he knew that it had to be his mother. She picked up the body—Harry felt it was his—and hugged him close. He realized that he must be himself as a young child—a baby._

"_Is your daddy being a prat to you again, Harry?" she asked with a laugh. He saw the man—James Potter—reach up to ruffle his already-messy hair as he defended himself._

"_It was Harry's idea, Lils," he protested. "I don't know why I went along with it, except he's too young to understand—"_

"_James Andrew Potter, you know very well that the whole thing was your fault! Who said it'd be a good idea to play Exploding Snap? With a one-year-old, no less? Harry doesn't talk enough to suggest that. And don't you lie to me, sir!"_

"_But Lils, Harry was enjoying himself perfectly—until they blew up in his face," he admitted. "But I didn't set it off on purpose! I—"_

"_Oh, give it a rest, James," she said good-naturedly. "Everyone here knows you're guilty. Right, Meghan? Sirius?" She turned so that Harry could see a smiling, pregnant woman with black hair lying on the ground, her head in the lap of a likewise black-haired man. He assumed the woman's name was Meghan and the man's was Serious._

_The woman, presumably Meghan, nodded conspiratorially—or at least as well as she could from the man, presumably Serious's, lap. "It was all James's fault," she said in agreement, her sapphire-blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I saw the whole thing, right in front of me. Isn't that right, Sirius, love?" she said sharply, as the man who was probably Serious looked about to protest hers and Lily's statements._

"_Oh, oh yeah, right," he tried to defend, to salvage himself from the hole he'd already dug far too deep. "Yeah, Meghan's right," Serious said, flashing an apologetic look toward James that said _Sorry, but a man's got to do what a man's got to do_. James responded with a quick _Can't argue with the women, mate_ look._

"_Fine. No one ever wants to listen to what I have to say," James pouted. Lily, Meghan, and Serious laughed as he walked very pompously out the door._

"_Don't trip on your ego, Minister Potter," the man named Serious called after him, his odd gray eyes dancing merrily. The woman named Meghan slapped his knee from her position in his lap. "Be nice." Serious looked both confused and affronted at this statement. Harry laughed inwardly._

**End Dream Sequence**

Harry sat up in bed, so quickly that the room spun. No, that was because he hit his head on that shelf. _Who was Meghan? Serious? Besides friends of his parents, that is. How close of friends? Almost enemies? Closer than blood? Meghan had looked like she could be related to James. Was she his aunt—the one Mr. Lupin had spoken of? Where did she live?_

He didn't have the time to ponder it now, however, he thought wryly as Aunt Petunia— Petunia Evans Dursley, Lily's sister—pounded on the cupboard door. "UP!" she screeched. He winced. He'd have to think about it when he wasn't trying to cook breakfast for his tyrannical foster-family.

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Remus John Lupin sat at the kitchen table of his tiny house in Little Whinging. An owl made his—or her—way in through the open window. Remus paid him—or her—and accepted his copy of the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_, which, although not prized for its accuracy in reporting, was nonetheless the most reliable. He idly took a sip of his morning tea—caffeinated, with four spoonfuls of sugar—

—and spit it right back out when he saw the front page.

"PADFOOT?" he shouted. When he had opened his eyes that very morning, he had a feeling of some foreboding, but nothing like this!

In bold black script, the headline of the front page read: **IMPOSSIBLE DEFIED: SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!** Remus threw down the paper as if it had suddenly sprouted eight to ten legs and lots of bristly black hair. He remembered Sirius Black. Sirius Orion Black, also known as Padfoot, had been James Potter's best friend from the time they were both young boys. He had seemed the logical choice when the Fidelius Charm had been performed. The Secret-Keeper was the only one who could disclose the address of the house. Sirius would never have told anyone the address. He loved Lily and James like brother and sister, and his godson Harry—why, they were like father and son. He had no reason to betray them to the self-styled Lord Voldemort.

But he had.

Remus picked up the paper again, though his thoughts were far from the article's cut-and-dried words. He'd belonged to Voldemort even then. Even a wonderful relationship and marriage with James's younger sister Meghan Aletha Potter hadn't kept him tied to the Light. Remus sighed. He didn't know what Voldemort had to offer Sirius, but it was good enough to him that he'd handed James, Lily, and Harry, his second family, over to Voldemort. Remus once again let the paper fall, not wanting to read about how Sirius had murdered another of his closest friends, Peter Pettigrew, and twelve Muggles with a single curse—in the middle of Muggle London.

"What would you think if I told you I had seen Harry, Sirius?" Remus asked aloud. "What would you do? How would it make you feel? How _could_ you?" he shouted to the ceiling. "James, Sirius? JAMES? We three, yeah, all three of us, we were best friends from the minute we met! You let that go! God, Sirius, Lily! Your sister, practically! The girl that never did you harm unless you did her harm first! And—Meghan, Sirius! MEGHAN! You LOVED her, you bastard! Don't you remember how long it took you two to damned well figure out that you were made for each other? Remember the look on James's face when you two started holding hands? Do you remember the day Ashley was born? Yeah, your daughter. EVERY SINGLE THING, Sirius, you destroyed it all!" He picked up a glass ornament from his table and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. The crash was satisfying.

Remus closed his eyes. "Did you know the name of the Death Eater that killed Meghan?" he demanded of the air. "Did you laugh and joke together at your 'meetings'? Did you know he was going to kill the girl you married? Did you even really want to marry her? Or was it all an act? Was your 'master' planning her death the night you made me measure around her ring finger? Why? Why, Sirius? You could have had it all." Remus let his head fall, his forehead dropping neatly into his hand. "Am I next, Sirius? Is Harry?" he whispered.

The formerly snarling, insane picture of Sirius Black on the Daily Prophet had stopped still. When Remus fell silent, he opened his mouth, trying to tell him something. But the man had already closed his eyes against the flood of emotions he was experiencing.

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Meghan Aletha Potter Black, also known as Pearl, also known as Louise Campbell, also known as Six-Feet-Under-For-Seven-and-a-Half-Years, woke with a start early in the morning of 10 June 1989. She sat up in her bed in her third-floor bedroom at Gryffindor Manor in Godric's Hollow, her eyes suddenly flung open to their fullest extent. She thundered down the stairs to the smaller dining room, where her parents, Elizabeth Anne and Andrew John Potter, already sat. Andrew's mouth was slightly open in shock or unpleasant surprise, and Elizabeth was blinking heavily and quickly at the Daily Prophet.

Meghan had never died. Narcissa Malfoy had simply knocked her out for a week, enough time for the pompous Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, to stage her "death" spectacularly, as well as her two-month-old daughter Ashley's "death". Ashley, now seven, still lived, with her mother. She had decided to stay in hiding with Ashley when she heard, and stayed in her parents' house but for the time she played Auror Louise Campbell, Mrs. Potter's widowed niece, a comic brunette with Meghan's blue eyes.

"What is it?" she asked in her low voice, dangerously, recklessly. Deep down, she knew she should be patient, but she wasn't in the mood to be patient. Something was wrong. She was determined to find out what. Elizabeth handed her the paper, mutely. Sirius Orion Black's face stared at her from the front page. She looked into his suddenly shocked, open eyes with hidden, jumbled thoughts. "No," she whispered.

What the black-haired woman was hiding was the fact that she knew the truth. Sirius was innocent. _He_ hadn't betrayed Lily and James. He could never keep any secret from her. Even the biggest, juiciest secret of his life had come out during a late-night talk, she in his lap, his arms around her waist as they talked about anything and everything. She had asked a careful question, and she'd felt him stiffen. She'd pressed the subject until he'd told her.

He hadn't been the Potters' Secret-Keeper.

He couldn't've been a Death Eater, either, because every waking moment he spent either with Ashley, Meghan, her parents, James, Lily, and Harry, or his Auror partner Kingsley Shacklebolt. She had made certain of this the night after Peter died and Sirius was arrested. Over and over she'd gone through the past year, searching for one single time he couldn't be logically accounted for. There had been none then, and there were none now.

The Auror had felt like killing Peter herself—with her bare hands. But she had kept her last promise to Sirius faithfully, even when she dueled Narcissa Malfoy in the younger Potter family's Godric's Hollow home. "Sirius," she murmured, picking up the paper she'd dropped in shock to read the lies about her love.

She had manufactured a professional actress's face in the seven years she'd lived without her brother, her sister-in-law, and her husband. Now, she rearranged her shock into a mask of fury, letting occasional flits of the worry she truly felt show through.

"Are you alright, dear?" Elizabeth asked kindly, carefully. She knew—or she thought she knew—how her daughter felt about her formerly imprisoned 'former' sweetheart.

"Actually, no, Mum, I'm not," she said honestly. _If he had to escape, he could at least have taken me with him._ Then she remembered. _Right. Remember, Meghan, you're dead to the rest of the world. You haven't been in contact with anyone for seven-and-a-half years._ Elizabeth patted her daughter's hand reassuringly. _Oh, Sirius, Sirius,_ she thought. _What should I do? James is dead, Lily too, Harry's hidden. I've lost Remus. Do I have anything more to lose? What should I do? Who should I tell? Sirius, I'm so lost, love. What would you do?_

The answer came to her in a breath, just as she was throwing the stirring, perfect images of her friends and family out of her head. _Write to Remus. Owls can find everybody, even if humans themselves can't._ The brown-haired werewolf appeared in her mind.

She ate her breakfast slowly, methodically, and read through the extra-thick paper, noting the countless articles that were related, in some way or another, to Sirius's recent escape. Her father left about halfway through the Prophet, she would recall later, muttering something about meeting Fudge on time. Her mother headed off to do something or other three-quarters of the way through the third section. Finally, the woman, alone in the room, set down the paper, stared at the once-again-snarling face of her beloved, and headed back up the stairs.

Pulling out a Muggle ballpoint pen—she preferred the feel of the Muggle implement to that of a quill—she tapped her lip with the pen. Finally setting it to the paper she had on her desk, she began to write.

**_Dear Remus,_** she wrote,

**_Hello, old friend! I know you haven't seen or heard from me in seven years, more or less, and you think I'm stone-cold dead. But really, I'm not. SURPRISE! I'm alive, but I've been hiding. I've been keeping a rather dangerous secret for those seven years on a special person's orders, but I think you'd like to know it, in light of recent events. Send me an address, and I'll be there for a visit exactly two weeks from today. Thanks! See you soon, MAP 10 June 1989_**

She folded it up, addressed it quickly, tied it to Hermia-her-tawny-owl's leg, and let the owl go before she changed her mind. "It's for Remus, Herm! Deliver it for me, if you can find him! This is important," she called after the owl.

She answered with a loud hoot as she winged off through the sunny June morning. Meghan sighed, in delight, almost, sat down on her bed, and opened her favorite novel. It was a good thing she had the day off work. She could hear Ashley stirring in the room nest to her. Oh dear.

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Remus Lupin had called in sick to work—now a small job in a nearby branch of Flourish and Blott's—so that he could straighten out his thoughts. But right now he was going through a scrapbook he himself had made of the Marauders and Lily's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (known simply as Hogwarts).

The smiling, laughing, vibrant Sirius, sharply different from the howling, unkempt one on the front of the Daily Prophet, held Meghan's hand or laughed with the other three Marauders in every single picture. The man sighed.

"It was all perfect, Sirius. There was James and Lily and you and Meghan—you could have had a life with Ashley! How could you do that to Harry? You took away his parents. He was one year old! You swore you'd take care of him! You promised Lily and James! Look at yourself here, Sirius. Compare it to yourself now. Which would you rather be—?"

An owl he'd never thought to see again was winging her way through his still-open window. His eyes widened. Hermia, Meghan Aletha Potter Black's tawny owl, stopped in front of him, familiar bold, slashing handwriting addressing the letter tied to her leg. Oh yes, he knew that handwriting very well. Carefully, his hands trembling a bit with apprehension, he untied the letter. He saw the name. **_Remus Lupin_**. Oh shit.

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A/N: Pardon Remus's language

M: I thought I had nice handwriting...

LP: Don't worry about Meggie

M: Don't call me that.

Thanks for reading...we enjoy any feedback you have...although I suck at feedback personally...sorry. I promise I will review the next story I read!

Luv,

LysPotter


	4. 3 You Learn Something New

Disclaimer: I like Remus, and I like Hermione, and I like the series and all, but I'm just as good not owning it. I have a pretty good life…without owning HP, and JKR probably has a pretty good one owning it. I'm not JKR…SURPRISE! I'm 13. She's not. I'm short. I'm pretty sure she is over five feet. I am not, on the other hand. I'm NOT JKR. Obviously.

Previously: Sirius escaped from Azkaban, leaving Remus in a rage, Meghan and Ashley quite overjoyed, and Sirius, well, out of Azkaban. Meghan wrote to Remus…He was in the process of receiving the letter.

**Chapter Three: You Learn Something New**, in which old friends are reunited.

Remus unfolded the thick, cream-colored parchment hesitantly. The lines of quickly-written text within hadn't even reached his brain when he dropped the letter.

"Meghan," he whispered. "There is no bloody way." But even before he picked up the letter and read the characteristically Meghan words, he knew there had to be a way, because this was Meghan. From the ballpoint pen to the straightforward words.

He finished reading, reached for his own pen, and detailed his address on the back of the parchment. He signed it carefully. He looked over the meager communication, reading only his yes and his address. His right hand hovered over it, itching to fold it up and send it before he couldn't reach her anymore. He stopped himself with a resolute feeling in his head. Would he be taken in that easily? Would it be the simple work of a forgery to fool him? A similar owl to one very familiar, perhaps? He wasn't going to send it. It was too simple to be real. Would Meghan be back, just like that? Had she just now decided to spread the word? He wouldn't be taken in so quickly, he decided firmly.

Hermia hooted softly in confusion. He looked questioningly at the owl, pointing to the paper. She hooted again and nodded, clicking her beak. Remus knew owls told no sort of falsehoods—everyone knew they couldn't even speak. But he still didn't want to believe it. The owl stuck her leg out irritably, hooting a third time.

"Just like your mistress," Remus chided as he had often in the days before the rush of murders. Nonetheless, he attached the letter to the owl's leg. She winged off before he could say or do anything else. "Hermia's always so impatient," he murmured out of habit. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Meghan was alive.

He'd immediately known no one could so closely imitate her confident writing style when he read the energetic letter. He'd known that she'd never handed out samples of her distinctive handwriting to anyone who might use it against her. He'd known that the only person who would know the writing style well enough to imitate it—Sirius—would never have stooped that low. As Death Eater as he was, he was still a Gryffindor by his mind, and he would confront people head-on, as he had shown by his past action. Remus flattered himself that he knew Sirius well enough to trust in that.

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Hermione Granger scaled the geometric dome. She met Harry Potter at the top. They sat in an awkward silence. For the first time, their cherished shield of silence was dysfunctional.

Hermione broke it first. "You think it's true?" she asked quietly. "You think your parents were actually murdered?"

"They were," Harry confirmed. "I see it sometimes, in my nightmares. A lot of green light, a woman's voice pleading for someone to leave me alone, and some crazy man laughing. I used to think it was the car crash, but the green light seemed out of place. I dunno. I trust him—Mr. Lupin. How about you?"

"I think I do. I mean, I've always been able to do these freaky things. It could be magic, I guess. I don't really know." She sighed and stared out at the sky. "I know my parents don't understand. Not at all."

"My aunt and uncle don't either," Harry confided, running a hand through his messy black hair. "I think they know, though, because it was my aunt's sister. So she would have known. They probably think I'm a freak because of it."

"My parents do anyway. They don't even know." Hermione didn't know what it was about Harry, but she couldn't stop talking about home in front of him.

Harry didn't know how she did it, but Hermione was silently persuading him to spill his home life's secrets. His stomach ached with hunger—his last meal had been two days ago—and his neck hurt from the time the night before that Uncle Vernon had throttled him. He had bruises from Dudley and his friends' latest beating, and he didn't feel that great. So he'd decided to see if the strange but nice playground girl—Hermione, he reminded himself—was there. He had to wait a while, but she showed up.

"I dreamed about my parents last night," Harry offered. "They were really nice people, and they had some really good friends. Only, one of them was called Serious. I couldn't figure it out. Who names a boy Serious?"

"Well, could it have been Sirius, for the Dog Star?" Hermione suggested. Harry looked at the precocious brunette, confused. "It's the brightest star in the sky," she explained.

"It might have been," Harry agreed. "Maybe I'll ask Mr. Lupin next time I see him. He probably knew him too, if he was my parents' friend." They sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"So," Hermione tried. "You're a wizard."

"You're a witch," he returned. "A good witch," he added a little shyly. "I think you're nice, Hermione." Hermione smiled bashfully.

"I think you're nice too, Harry," she said quietly. They smiled at each other, letting their emotion show for a rare moment in their lives.

"Can we be friends?" Hermione asked tentatively. After a minute, Harry nodded a little shyly. Hermione smiled again.

"I'd like that," Harry said.

"Friends?" Hermione asked again, offering her hand cautiously. Harry took it, and they shook for a brief moment. Hermione stared out to one side of the geometric dome. Harry stared at the other side.

"Can we meet here often?" Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione swung back to look at him. She thought about it. She wasn't going anywhere this summer, although her parents were. "Umm, well, sure. We can meet every day you'd like," she agreed. "I can make it pretty much any day."

"Oh. Good." He thought a minute. "Me too. As long as I don't make Uncle Vernon really mad. Or if I don't have to cook."

"You can cook?" she asked, intrigued. Harry nodded. "Can you teach me sometime? I'd really like to learn."

"Sure. I guess." They went back to staring at their respective areas. Harry interrupted the calm again. "You're good in math, aren't you?" he asked her.

"I don't know. I'm not so bad," she said modestly.

"Well, I mean, I'm not going to actually do it right, because then I'd be better than Dudley and that wouldn't be good. But I think it'd be good to know, you know. So, maybe you could help me this summer?"

"Of course. I'd love to help."

"And I'll teach you to cook."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Thank _you_, Hermione."

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Hermione's parents left for a month's holiday in Spain nearly two long weeks later.

They called a woman in her early thirties, Mr. Lupin's age, to baby-sit for Hermione while they were away. Her name was Katherine Bassett.

Miss Bassett had waist-length dark-brown hair and brown eyes that were always laughing. She was of average height and she wore a lot of bright colors and blue jeans. Hermione tiptoed carefully around the unknown. She still had to figure out how to act around the woman. She wasn't sure what was expected of her. She would tiptoe past the guestroom at six in the morning only to find the odd woman already in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the two of them. Miss Bassett was a very good cook.

Three days after Miss Bassett had come, Hermione screwed her courage to the sticking point and spoke up over a summer lunch of thick sandwiches.

"Miss Bassett?" she asked carefully when she had swallowed her mouthful of lunch. The woman looked up from the paper she had been reading.

"Call me Kate, Hermione," the woman invited for what must have been the tenth time that day. Hermione nodded meekly, obediently. Whatever she said, right?

"Miss Kate, I was just wondering," she began, but her next words stuck in her throat. Miss Kate looked at her expectantly.

"You were wondering?" she prompted. "Only say the word, and I am yours to command," she smiled, inviting Hermione to share her joke. The girl didn't laugh.

"Well, you know the park?" she asked. The woman nodded. "I usually go there every day and I see my, umm, my friend Harry. I was just wondering if we could, perhaps…" she trailed off.

"Go to the park after lunch?" Miss Kate finished. "Of course we can, Hermione. I would be thrilled to go to the park with you." Hermione beamed inwardly, applauding her rarely displayed courage. She liked Miss Kate. Miss Kate might even like her. She smiled a little bashfully at Miss Kate as the brunette woman took a bite of her sandwich.

_At last!_ Kate thought. A display of emotion had come from the little stone-child. Her quiet smile lit up her whole face, and her green-hazel eyes shone. It was a pity she didn't smile more often. It looked positively adorable. Kate winked at her as she chewed her sandwich. Hermione tucked her head shyly. Kate rolled her eyes inwardly. Why was this girl so bloody shy? It was only a trip to the park, for God's sake!

Kate cleaned up the Grangers' kitchen. The Granger girl had tried to lend a hand, but Kate smiled, said that she'd take care of it, and sent Hermione scurrying off to put on her shoes so they could leave.

Pretty soon, Kate, in her emerald-green shirt, golden straw hat, and sunglasses was following a silent, shod Hermione down the path to the Little Whinging Residential Area Park.

They arrived with little fanfare. The ever-stoic Hermione looked more and more excited as they got closer. Her eyes lit as she noticed the boy on top of the geometric dome. His black hair was messy, and he simply watched the other visitors to the park.

"Your friend?" she asked, nodding toward the boy on the dome. Hermione nodded.

"May I?" she asked politely, pointing to the dome. Kate smiled, nodded, and sat on the park bench to watch her charge.

The brunette eight-year-old scaled the dome with practiced ease. Kate watched as she and the boy greeted each other. They demonstrated a sort of easy camaraderie that reminded Kate of a pair from her own earlier life.

Meghan Potter and Sirius Black!

Katherine Theresa Bassett, a Muggleborn, Hogwarts-educated witch and a special-clearance Unspeakable, had gone through Hogwarts with the Potters, Blacks, McKinnons, and company. She had been in the Marauders' year at the school, in Gryffindor. Sirius had been a class- and housemate, younger Meghan a housemate and lower-classman best friend. The two—Meghan and Sirius—had long failed to notice that they were almost exactly identical—at least inwardly, with their mannerisms and personalities themselves being very similar. They had finally figured it out during the summer of 1974, when Meghan was nearly sixteen and Sirius was seventeen, due to Sirius's personal crisis that brought them together. The two children—Hermione and her unnamed friend—seemed quite the same as Sirius and Meghan had been in the 1973-74 school year. Close enough friends for now, but not inseparable—yet, anyway.

Thinking about Meghan and Sirius led her to another raw, unhealed wound, nearly ranker than Sirius's betrayal and Meghan and her daughter's death. Remus Lupin. The friendly man had never known about the secret crush she'd had on him. Or she hoped so, at least. She'd taken care with that secret. Not even Meghan and Lily, her closest friends, knew about it. She'd never even let on about it to Remus.

Obviously, the love had been unrequited, for there had never been any acknowledgement of similar feelings from the object of the crush.

Remus had acknowledged her quietly in the halls, and in class. He had made certain to be courteous to her—as he was to everyone. But she'd never seen anything more in those expressive green-hazel eyes. All her hopes had reached far too quickly for the sky, and so they had crashed painfully to the ground in her seventh year. She had rarely dated anyone since. She probably wouldn't ever find someone else right for her. She still loved him, with all her heart.

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A knock on his door startled Remus Lupin out of his stupor. He sat straight up, suddenly enveloped by a feeling of excitement.

Meghan Black tapped her foot on the pavement. She had purposely come with her hair black and natural, not brown as Louise Campbell. _If I want to do it, I should do it right._ She knocked again. _Suppose he doesn't believe me? What then? Do I go out looking for my love myself? I can't leave him out there, all alone._ She raised her hand again and knocked on Remus's nose.

"Didn't realize you'd opened the door. It's me. Meghan Black. Remus Lupin, I presume?"

"Would you please just come in so we can talk? I hope none of the neighbors are wizards."

"Nope, just rumormongers. Interfering busybodies like most people. We're probably a couple in their minds." Remus looked at the matter-of-fact woman, one eyebrow raised. "Not my idea. You're nice, Remus, but you're not my type. There's only one person who is anymore." _The same one who was before, _she thought but didn't say.

They walked into the kitchen, where they had a seat. Meghan surveyed the room.

"Well, Remus, I know you love your kitchen and all," she said wryly, "but I'm sure there's somewhere you're more comfortable. You'll need to be comfortable when I tell you my news."

Remus thought about that for a moment. "Well," he said after a while, "there is this kids' playground-park sort of thing" _that your godson and nephew frequents_ "that I'd been visiting daily before I got your letter," he suggested.

"A playground?" she asked, nonplussed. "Oh well," she shrugged when he nodded. "To each his—or her—own, I suppose," she said dubiously.

The two adults, who were in their early thirties, set off for the Muggle children's playground in Little Whinging. Remus was apprehensive. Not just because of his friend's news, but also Harry's characteristic appearance at the park.

Meghan, for her part, felt mildly foolish. She, a grown woman, her daughter at home with her grandparents, was heading for a kid's playground. She felt five years old again, begging to be allowed to play Quidditch with the boys.

Remus expertly led the way, thinking his own quiet thoughts as he navigated through the small-town pavement. Meghan followed, fumbling slightly to turn the right way and knowing she really out to make more of an effort to keep up.

"So, Remus, what _were_ you doing at a Muggle playground?" Meghan asked curiously with a toss of her long, straight black hair. Remus shrugged.

"Well, after the Department of Mysteries fired me—" he began.

"You were fired? In the name of God and Merlin, why?" Meghan interrupted.

"Don't ask me. They didn't say anything. I was just, well, uh, fired. Sometime last year. Mid-September, I think. Oh well. I started to go to the park to think about things. Kind of like a second Shrieking Shack."

Meghan nodded, understanding. The Shack had been the Marauders' place during Hogwarts, and it was special to Remus in particular, because he had always gone there, monthly, for his werewolf transformations. "Anybody we know living in Little Whinging?" she asked, changing the subject. "Meet anyone interesting?"

"Maybe so," he said evasively. "Maybe so." Meghan raised her eyebrows. Remus shook his head. "You're altogether too curious, Meghan."

"My job," she replied. "You haven't seen, well, Padfoot around anywhere, have you?" she asked innocently. Remus looked at her incredulously. Why the hell did she want to know that? He'd think she'd be running for the hills now that he was out. He was the worst person alive, at least to Remus.

"No. One would think he'd be keeping a low profile," he said icily. Meghan, oddly enough, looked perfectly crestfallen. "What is wrong with you, woman?" he demanded.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "What's wrong with me? I'm not _allowed_ to miss my husband, Remus Lupin? Don't you think you would miss Kate if you two had figured out how much you liked each other sooner?"

"Shut up! I do not like Kate!" Meghan gave him a Look. "Alright, fine. She was pretty. And smart. And she was nice. So maybe I like her. Oh well. Here we are."

Blindly arguing with his raven-haired friend, the brown-haired wizard backed into the park and toward the bench. He was so busy talking and not turning around that Meghan didn't notice there was someone already on the bench until they were less than ten feet away.

Remus continued to back up, oblivious as he protested something or other that she had just said. Meghan pointed warningly at the bench. But Remus had already sat down, right next to the woman already sitting there.

It was Kate Bassett, Remus's schoolboy crush and Meghan's best friend.

Her warm brown eyes widened and turned cold in her incredulity as she jumped back. "Oh my God. Not Remus Lupin?" she asked. She looked almost frightened—like she didn't have very good memories of the man.

"Kate?" he wondered aloud. _Oh my God!_ Remus was thinking. _I didn't know she lived here in Little Whinging!_ "Long time no see," he tried to recover. She was still watching him carefully, almost fearfully.

"Longer time no see," Meghan joked. "I think." She walked up to the duo. "Room for a long-dead Auror on this bench? There's nowhere else to sit. Besides the ground."

Kate was shocked. Remus? Forget him—Meghan? Her closest friend, who had been presumed dead for seven years? Not to mention that they boy sitting with Hermione was starting to look very familiar.

"Meghan?" she whispered. The black-haired woman grinned and nodded casually. "What the hell are you doing alive?" she demanded, careful to keep her voice low enough that none of the children would hear her.

"Never died. Say, is this a rendezvous for old Hogwarts friends? Or do all Little Whinging's magical people just gravitate toward the little kids' park? First Remus, now you. You have a kid? An alter ego, perhaps? What's with you two and the park?"

Kate was still stuck on sentence one. "You never died? Then what was with the big state funeral and the Death Eater duel, hmm? Your death was plastered all over the Daily Prophet for—"

"Two days in a row, I know," Meghan said with a crooked smile. "Narcissa Malfoy always _was_ good at poker faces, remember?"

"Narcissa?" Kate asked. "You dueled Narcissa Black Malfoy and you _lost_?" she screeched. "That's impossible. We are talking about the same Narcissa here, right? Just to make sure?"

"Yes. Look, I'd spent the whole day crying my eyes out over James and Lily and Harry, Kate dear. I wasn't exactly up to par, with my reflexes dulled like that. It was bad. I did hold my own for most of it, though," she said, halfway satisfied with her disappointing performance. "Now. Back to my other question. What are _you_ doing at the park, Katherine?"

"Oh, I'm babysitting this girl named Hermione Granger. She wanted to come meet her friend. They're up there, right on top of the—"

"Geometrical dome. They show up there every single day. At least, she did before the school year ended. They're both magical, and the girl's as quiet as a mouse." Remus rolled his eyes.

"Hermione's magical? The rest I know. I've been babysitting for three days, and today, we actually had some form of a conversation. About coming to the park to see this friend. And I just realized I don't even know this kid's bleeding name—"

"It's Harry," Remus interrupted. "It's Harry, he's kind of short with black hair and green eyes, he's also very quiet, and in case you were wondering about his last name—"

"It's Potter." Kate was already on her feet, moving. Meghan was already at the dome. In a moment, the two women were scaling the dome. Some of the children were openly pointing and laughing at the thirty-year-old women climbing the playground equipment.

Meghan pulled young Harry into a precarious but tight hug. Kate was watching him, her eyes open to their full extent and her eyebrows raised as she watched her friend's nephew. She sat carefully on the metal next to her charge.

"Do you, er, know Mr. Lupin?" Hermione asked tentatively. Kate looked at her oddly. "I—I'm sorry. Children should be seen and not heard." She looked at the ground, strangely embarrassed that she had asked a question.

"No, Hermione, that's not it," Kate contradicted the timid girl. "I just didn't know you knew Remus. I went to school with him and Meghan right there."

Harry nearly fell off the dome. "Meghan?" he murmured. "Not really, is it?" He got another look at her face and blanched. "I dreamed about you and someone named Sirius. And my mum and dad."

Meghan smiled at her nephew. "We were all teasing your dad, right?" Harry nodded. "We always did." She ran a hand through her thick black hair. "Why don't we all go down there so I can talk to Remus? And Kate too, of course." Hermione and Harry dropped quickly. Meghan followed suit, but Kate shook her head and climbed down carefully. It was no secret that Kate Bassett was afraid of heights.

When they were all grouped on or around the bench, Meghan spoke. "We know this place is safe, right?" She got a nod of confirmation from Remus. "Good. But I'm going to try to make it a story. Can you kids try to back it up with some questions and expressions?" Harry shrugged. Hermione nodded. "Thanks. Let's begin.

"Once upon a time—" Remus snickered. "Shut up, Remus. Once upon a time, a bad wizard named Voldemort decided he wanted to go around bullying people. He killed a lot of them. And he wanted to kill a lot more people. One of these people was named James. Another was his wife Lily, and a third was their son Harry." Harry's eyes clenched shut.

"Green light," he whispered. Hermione patted his shoulder awkwardly, trying to reassure him. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"So someone, some man with a long beard in charge of everyone who wanted to fight Voldemort, decided it would be best to hide them away with something called the Fidelius Charm," Meghan continued. "No one would be able to find the place unless the Secret-Keeper tells them where to find it.

"The Secret-Keeper was supposed to be Sirius Black."

"Did—?" Harry cleared his throat softly, suddenly finding it hard to speak. "Did he have black hair?"

"Yes. Yes, he did. Sirius was James's best friend and baby Harry's godfather. Lily was like the argumentative sister he had never had. Sirius was even married to baby Harry's aunt and going to be a dad. He loved the little family, so he was the perfect choice to keep their secret.

"But then they figured out that everyone expected him to be their Secret-Keeper. So he thought it'd be a good idea to trade Secret-Keepers—without telling anyone."

Kate's eyes were darting from Meghan, to Remus, to Harry. This could mean so much. Who had they switched to? Hadn't James and Lily and Sirius trusted them enough to tell them?

BREAK

A/N: ALmost a cliffy...SO CLose...and yet so far...

M: What's with the weird caps?

LP: emphasis...that's what caps are for dear.

M: Ah. You know the drill. LP is a hypocrite, but she wants to hear how awful her story is. Tell her and she'll be happy.

LP: As stupid as that sounds, it's the truth. I know it sucks, just prove it to me.

Luv,

LysPotter and Meghan


	5. 4 Pieces of the Puzzle

Disclaimer: If I were JKR, I would have diamonds on the soles of my shoes. But I don't…and nobody knows what I'm talking about…That is set to lovely Paul Simon music in my head.

Previously: _Kate's eyes were darting from Meghan, to Remus, to Harry. This could mean so much. Who had they switched to? Hadn't James and Lily and Sirius trusted them enough to tell them?_

**Chapter Five: Pieces of the Puzzle**, in which stories are unfolded, a new character is introduced, and someone special "reenters" the story.

"They switched to a man named Peter Pettigrew a short while later." Meghan dropped her bomb rather apprehensively. Kate nearly fell off the bench. Remus emitted a strangled gasp. Harry and Hermione looked confused and uncomfortable.

"And Peter was forced to tell Voldemort?" Remus choked out. To the group's surprise, Meghan shook her head. "WHAT!" he demanded.

"I talked to Sirius for a moment before he went after Peter," she said. "Tried to convince him not to go. He said there was no sign of a struggle at his hiding place. Peter went over willingly." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "He betrayed James, Lily, and Harry to Voldemort.

"Sirius made me promise not to tell anyone when he told me about the Secret-Keeper. I took him perhaps a bit too seriously. In light of his recent escape _and_ the not-so-recent deaths of my brother and sister-in-law, I thought it would be prudent to tell you."

"Should have known," Kate said, her voice creaking like a rusty gate hinge. She cleared her throat. "You never let on that he was missing, possibly out on Death Eater activities. You could get anything out of that man. I should have known."

"Sucks, don't it?" Meghan joked weakly. "If it helps, at least we all five know he's innocent now." Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Well, you two didn't know he was supposed to be guilty in the first place. But we all know he'd innocent. All that's left is to find him." She looked at the sky, her eyes losing their happy twinkle. "Which, in itself, is no small task. He'll be Padfoot. Black dogs are every bleeding where. Pardon my French, as it's pretty awful."

"Posters," Harry suggested. Meghan and Remus, both of whom had grown up with wizarding families, looked at him oddly. Kate nodded and snapped her fingers. "That's it!"

BREAK

Over the next two days, Hermione, Harry, Kate, Meghan (Ashley still with her grandparents), and Remus made posters with a still picture of Sirius Orion Black in his Animagus form of Padfoot, a huge, friendly black dog. Hermione was still tight-lipped and sparing with her words, but on the third day, Harry opened up. He was soon talking to the three adults like he had grown up knowing them personally. Hermione just watched from the sidelines, feeling a little fifth-wheel (quite literally) and hanging back from the rest of the group.

After lunch on the third day, Remus and Meghan told newly-arrived Harry stories about their childhood with James, Sirius, and other friends. Kate excused herself and shut the door of the Grangers' guestroom as she left, leaving them to their stories. She went to check on her charge.

Hermione was reading a book in her upstairs bedroom when Kate appeared in her doorway. She jumped when she noticed the wraithlike woman had come up to the door. She tried to shrink back into the headboard.

"Have some lemonade with me?" Kate asked. "It's lonely by myself," she added with a quiet smile. Hermione nodded shyly and put down her book. She slid her feet off the bed and onto the floor and followed Kate to the kitchen. When they arrived, Kate poured the lemonade and they sat at the table across from each other.

"Hermione, I've noticed you don't really have that many friends," Kate said delicately, handing the startled girl a biscuit as she broached the subject that had baffled her. "Is there a particular reason you don't know many kids your age?"

"I don't get out much," she murmured. She sat there for a minute, dangling her legs as she debated possible answers. "Harry's my first real friend," she confided. "My father doesn't let me see any of the kids from school. And they don't notice me usually. Which is good," she added in an undertone.

"Why is it good?" ever-eagle-ears Kate asked. Hermione looked like she didn't want to dig her hole any deeper than it already was. "Come on, it's six one way and half a dozen the other. Just spit it out, Hermione."

"If I attract attention to myself, my father thinks I'm being forward. He doesn't like it when I talk to his and Mum's guests, either. There isn't much he likes about me," she whispered.

Kate felt cold all of a sudden. Did this mean something more, something worse? Hermione's soft-eyed, innocent face confronted her when she looked up. No. There wasn't any of _that_ going on. Hermione was quite obviously safe here. The Grangers weren't the Blacks.

"Do you like school?" she changed the subject tactfully. She was duly rewarded for her quick thinking when Hermione's eyes lit up and she nodded.

"What we learn is so interesting! I don't much like the summer holidays. I prefer school." Kate smiled a little at this. Most kids couldn't wait for the summer hols to begin. She sounded like Kate in the fact that she couldn't wait for them to end.

BREAK

Meghan went home the next day, told Ashley she'd found her Aunt Kate and Uncle Remus, as well as her cousin Harry and a playmate and Apparated her back to Remus's house. Remus was waiting. He had sat through Meghan's tale of Ashley's survival (she had been in the Potters' bedroom), along with Kate, and they were eagerly anticipating her arrival.

The black-haired, gray-eyed seven-year-old was shy at first, having forgotten all she knew of Remus and Kate. As soon as her mother came in, giving her daughter a Look and an explanation, she opened up and was the vivacious girl her mother knew.

"I've been hearing stories about you forever," she said quickly. "I've always wanted to meet you and I finally get to. It took Mum forever, but I guess we got here."

It took Harry and Hermione longer to get used to Ashley. They'd had very little contact with the outside world, and Ashley was like being plunged into the deep end of the outside world. The little contact with the children at school didn't help.

Ashley bounced into the room where Harry and Hermione were sitting in silence, Hermione reading a book on loan from Kate, Harry drawing on a pad of paper Meghan had given him.

"Hi! I'm Ashley Black. Meghan's my mother. I'm your cousin, Harry, and umm, what's your name?" Hermione looked taken aback. Harry was staring.

"Hermione," she said quietly.

"Hi, Hermione. Mum said maybe we could be friends. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," the girl said with a ghost of a smile. "Mrs. Black said you'd be here today." Harry tried to smile at his cousin. "Hello."

"Umm, yeah," Ashley said awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"What are you reading?" she tried a few minutes later. Ashley wasn't one for silence. Never had been.

"Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales," the brunette told her. "It's very good. I'm reading The Little Mermaid right now." She clammed up.

"Oh, that's nice," Ashley said lamely.

BREAK

The next two weeks Meghan spent hovering over Remus's telephone. Every time it rang, she'd pounce on it, thinking it to be someone who had spotted her beloved. It was nearly always Kate, wondering if they'd heard anything.

Ashley tried to figure out her cousin and his friend, learned some more about her adoptive aunt and uncle, and wondered about her father.

Harry obediently cooked and cleaned for his remaining maternal relatives, tried very hard not to aggravate the volatile family, and hoped that no one would noticed all the bruises he was accumulating anyway.

Hermione tiptoed around and thanked whoever above was listening for sending her to such wonderful people while her parents were gone. She felt she didn't deserve it.

Kate puzzled over the ongoing mystery of Hermione and Harry, worried about Sirius, and moped after Remus. In that exact order. She couldn't for the life of her figure out the quiet, timid children. She wished Remus would care for her the way she did for him. She talked to Meghan endlessly. She figured Remus would be doing the same once they found his once-again best friend.

Remus pondered Harry, Hermione, and Kate. He wondered if Kate liked him as well, feeling like a clumsy schoolboy again. He questioned Sirius's whereabouts.

By and large, the group of six: two silent, abused children, one vivacious, humorous girl, and three friendly but oblivious adults who knew each other back to front; waited for the return of a forgotten godfather, a very close friend, a beloved husband, a father, and an unknown quantity.

BREAK

Sirius, for his part, was just wandering into a small Surrey town as the long, anxious two weeks came to a crashing close. The black dog Animagus was wandering aimlessly, as he had been since his 9 June escape.

He was wandering through a small playground when he chanced to look up. When he did, he noticed there was someone very familiar atop the geometrical dome. A girl sitting next to the boy who had to be his eight-year-old godson Harry noticed him first and pointed to him, murmuring something in Harry's listening ear. Harry whipped his head around to look at the huge black dog that was looking back at him.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, the boy called, "Aunt Meghan! We found Padfoot!" Sirius/Padfoot's eyes were already darting in the direction of the boy's—Harry's—call. Meghan? Surely not…

A familiar—too familiar, too good to be true—woman with long black hair came into view. Sirius couldn't help himself. He was running, the dog's long stride taking him to his darling in seconds. He bowled her over, smothering her face with wet dog kisses. She was laughing even as tears streamed from her brilliantly sapphire-blue eyes. "Oh, Padfoot," she murmured as she hugged him close, burying her face in his neck. A girl with black hair was standing behind her.

"Harry, Hermione, Ashley, let's go over to my house," his best friend Remus Lupin called to the boy and two girls, coming into view. _Ashley?_ "Meghan, bring the mutt with you. Hope he doesn't have rabies." _That's rich, coming from you, wolf-boy,_ Sirius thought furiously. The lycanthrope winked at him and whispered, "Nice to have you back, Padfoot. Meghan's been hovering over the phone ever since we put up those posters." Kate Bassett followed him into view. "Hey Kate, Meghan found her mutt," he winked.

Sirius growled at Remus, letting Kate scratch his head. "Missed you, old boy," she muttered. "I've only had your nutty wife and rascally daughter for company recently." She raised her voice. "Hermione, we're heading for Remus's, dear. Follow him."

The brunette girl nodded, following Harry and Remus. Meghan was on her feet, leaning Sirius by the hand still buried in his neck fur. "Love you," she murmured under her breath. Sirius snuffled and buried his nose in the leg of her jeans. She laughed.

They made it to Remus's house without any mishaps. Sirius was itching to change back, kiss Meghan, and hug Ashley and Harry. What was taking so long? All Remus had to do was unlock the bloody door—

Sirius bounded into the house and transformed.

Meghan collapsed in the gaunt man's strong arms, crying again. He held the woman close, kissing her soft hair. "Don't suppose you missed me, then?" he joked, his voice raspy with disuse. She laughed through her tears and kissed him.

"Are you two just going to stand there all day?" Kate demanded tartly. "Ashley here _might_ like a hug from her father. This century. I'm sure you'd love to oblige. Right, Sirius?" she said dangerously.

Sirius let Meghan go and his eyes found Ashley's gray of their own accord. "My girl," he whispered. A hint of recognition flitted through her eyes at the nickname. "Dad?" she replied, before Sirius caught her up in a tight hug. Ashley hugged her father back enthusiastically. "I'll never let you down again, little one," he whispered in the girl's ear, tears gathering in his eyes. Hermione looked a little odd at this, Kate noticed, although she pretended not to. She was slowly backing away, a longing look on her face.

Sirius released Ashley, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. He looked around. Seeing Harry, he bounded over and hugged him as well. The boy stiffened, and Sirius let him go, a worried look in his eyes. Harry tried to smile. The escaped convicted criminal then looked at Remus, a question in his tired, haunted gray eyes. The hazel-eyed lycanthrope nodded, pointed to Meghan, and made a series of complicated gestures with his hands. Sirius grinned, lighting up the pale, thin face, and gave Remus a hug as well. When they stepped back, Sirius smiling still, he looked at Kate. She nodded to him. He extended a hand. She shook it. She winked at him and gave him a full-blown hug, relieving the tension of the moment. "Hey, Hermione," she said to the brunette girl standing behind her, "this is that mutt Meghan's been crying over for two weeks. Come say hello. He doesn't bite." Remus looked at her, skeptical. "Often," she amended.

"Oh, thanks," Sirius muttered. "Hello, Hermione," he said with a smile. "My name's Sirius Black…or Padfoot, if you prefer." She nodded timidly. When she spoke, her musical voice was quiet, her eyes fixed on her shoes.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Mr. Black, sir. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Sirius looked, nonplussed, at Meghan, Kate, and Remus, who all looked a little astonished at her word choice. _What's with this girl?_ he mouthed over her head. _Shy,_ Remus and Kate mouthed back together.

"No one calls me Mr. Black," he said kindly. "Call me Sirius, Hermione. I take it you know Harry here from somewhere?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"We go to school together," Hermione said very softly. Sirius had to strain to hear her. "Now we meet at the park," Harry added in a louder tone.

"Well, how did this motley group all come together?" Kate, Remus, and Meghan traded looks, trying to fend the telling of the tale off on each other. When no one said anything, a straightforward Ashley looked at Sirius.

"From what I've heard, Uncle Remus saw Hermione in the park every day for nearly the whole school year. Then, he saw Harry when he came earlier than usual to the park on the last day of school. Mum wrote to him the next day, when you got out of Azkaban. She promised to visit two weeks later. Hermione's parents left for, umm, Spain a few days before Mum came, and they called Aunt Kate to look after Hermione. They all ended up meeting in the one park. Mum told them about you and they all put up posters advertising a lost dog—you, Dad."

"And then, Hermione saw me," Sirius clarified. Hermione nodded. "So, Miss Hermione, how else do you fit into this picture?" he asked. Hermione ducked her head uncertainly.

"She's Muggleborn, but she's magical," Remus explained for her. "She produced a strong shield about six or so weeks back." He turned to Hermione. "Do your parents know yet?"

"No, sir. Mr. Lupin. I haven't told them, sir," she said, ashamed. Meghan looked oddly at Remus, then at Hermione, her eyebrows knit in concentration. Remus shook his head slightly.

"Call me Remus. Is there any particular reason why? You haven't told your parents, I mean. Is there a reason you're keeping it quiet?"

"No, sir," she said carefully after a moment of hesitation. "No reason, sir."

"Remus," he corrected. "No one has called me 'sir' in my entire life." Sirius laughed a little. Hermione's small smile betrayed her.

Harry opened up easily to Sirius, if only because he'd known him as a small child and somehow remembered him. Hermione, for her part, hung back, determined to get the measure of this unknown quantity before she said anything to him. She tried not to call attention to herself. Ashley could hardly stop talking.

Kate and Remus, the cooks of the group, prepared a light supper for the six of them. Harry tried to help, but was shooed away by the monarchs of the kitchen. Hermione looked at Remus's books. Sirius sat down, Meghan inevitably on his dirty-gray-covered lap and Ashley next to him. Kate would come into the other room every few minutes to check on Hermione. She'd watch her charge, smiling, for a few moments, nod to Sirius and Meghan, and go back into the kitchen. Hermione, meanwhile, was very careful not to touch anything.

"Dinner's ready," Kate called a while later. "Come on in!" The group filed into the kitchen. Remus had conjured a few extra chairs and they all squeezed in at the table. They dug into the meal with gusto. Or at least, the guys and Ashley did. Hermione, naturally, picked at it. Meghan ate slowly, savoring the moments she was spending with these people, who were almost like her second family. Kate ate at the same pace as Meghan, also enjoying the full table and the formerly rare company of her friends. No one commented on the restrained pace of the three girls, sensing that the youngest among then, the petite brunette, preferred not to be noticed.

Remus and Sirius gave everyone a good fit of laughter with their stories about the Hogwarts Marauders' many escapades. Even Harry and Hermione laughed, to everyone's delight. The two quiet children invited a feeling of care without even knowing it. Even just having met her recently, the adults were all strangely protective of Hermione. Harry and Hermione seemed to think of each other as good friends, even if they were reluctant to reach out to others. Hermione recognized Harry as her only friend, and vice versa. Both were careful around each other, though friendly, fearing to lose the one person that understood their plight.

Much later, after tales of more Marauder escapades, Meghan, Kate, and Lily's covert pranking, and growing up, Harry checked the clock. When he saw the time, he leapt to his feet.

"I'm dead," he muttered, hurrying to the door. "I'm sorry, but I really have to leave." They watched him go, the adults confused. Hermione nodded, thinking about the strange conversation they'd had more than four weeks ago, one of the highlights of her quiet, simple summer.

"What's with him, Hermione?" Kate asked.

"He lives with his aunt and uncle, and his cousin. He usually has to cook for them. They'll probably be mad that he wasn't home in time," she said. The adults looked aghast.

"He cooks for them? At eight years old?" they all demanded at once. Hermione nodded, her movement slow and timid, her eyes worried. "Why on earth?" Sirius continued, frustrated, the mood of the evening destroyed. "Can't they cook for themselves?"

"They probably can. They just won't," Kate said bitterly. "You know, we'd better be going, too. I'll need to clean up the house, since your parents get back tomorrow." Hermione paled.

"I'll help, Miss Kate," she recovered. "Goodbye, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, Mrs. Black, Ashley," she said respectfully. The three remaining adults watched Kate and Hermione go out the door.

"Didn't I tell her to call me Remus?" Remus muttered. "Six weeks ago?"

BREAK

A/N: Another one of these pesky respites...ah well, I am addicted. What do you think? I think maybe the Call me Remus is getting old, but he's trying to get through to her, and she's not being open...ah well, that's Mia for you.

M: Ah ah ah, no killing the story!

LP: Sorry, sorry...anyway, by all means tell me how corny and awful this is getting.

M: You're moving through that document way fast..you should email EJ this link...

LP: I will, shut up.

M: Shutting up.

LP: Bye now!

Luv,

LysPotter and Meghan


	6. 5 Love or Lack Thereof

Disclaimer: This is LysPotter, and I own nothing….Just having a little depressing fun with these characters. The good people of the world like EJ frown on me for this…

Previously: We meet Ashley and Sirius, and Harry leaves late, fearing retribution from unhappy relatives. Hermione forgets to call Remus by his first name.

**Chapter Six: Love…or Lack Thereof**, in which Meghan and Sirius banter, the Grangers return from Spain, and more depressing things ensue.

Meghan and Sirius stayed seated on the sofa far into the night. She let her head loll back onto his shoulder and he wound his arms protectively around her waist.

At some point late that night, Meghan sat up straight in his lap and turned to look at him. "I'm sorry," the white tiger Animagus whispered.

"Whatever for?" the black dog Animagus asked, nonplussed. Tears formed in her startlingly blue eyes as she shifted herself off his lap.

"I never tried to get you out. I couldn't stop focusing on the damned promise I made to you long enough to consider that their deaths and Voldemort's defeat meant the secret didn't need to be a secret any longer. I never should have let you spend those seven years in Azkaban. I didn't think enough about it until I read about your escape. And I was stupid enough not to tell anyone, even though I could have saved you." She was crying again, the pesky tears running down now-familiar trails.

"Shh, love," he consoled her, wiping her tears away with his thumb as he braced a hand against her cheek. "I know. Don't kill yourself about it. It's over. I know I told you not to tell anyone. I don't know if anyone would have believed you anyway. I'm really not sure why you kept it so secret, but I know I can trust you with any secret I have now," he tried to joke. Meghan's half-hearted laugh was garbled in her still-plentiful tears. He caressed her cheek lovingly. "Don't you worry one little bit." He took her face in both of his hands and kissed her gently on the lips.

She stopped crying, although the already-shed tears wet his cheek anyway. She smiled into his familiar lips as they deepened the kiss. This _was_ the man she loved. She knew it. He knew it. The only thing that mattered to each was the other.

They broke the sweet kiss reluctantly. Meghan's long-fingered hands were stroking Sirius's familiar features, not noticing that he did the same to her. They kissed again, heatedly and with unconcealed passion. When they pulled back, Meghan was panting. She'd missed him, his kisses and his cuddles, his loving her.

"Have you thought about this meeting?" Sirius asked her.

"Yes, of course. All the time. Why?" Meghan replied as he took her hand in his possessively.

"I thought about seeing you again every single day for the past seven and a half years. The only reason the dementors couldn't take the thought away from me was because I was firmly convinced it would never happen." Meghan pulled him toward her for another kiss, impulsively.

He pulled back after a few seconds. "I just want to look at you. I lost every memory I had of you in Azkaban. I was only left with the memories about—" his voice cracked painfully. Meghan, who had been the first one to deal with Sirius's memories of his abusive childhood first-hand, gave him a hug that was both an apology and consolation. "Don't you ever leave me again," he ordered. Meghan sat ramrod-straight next to him. He looked at her, seeing that she was poised to speak.

"We're married," she told him. "Nothing can separate us, because our spirits are forever one, bonded by love." Sirius smiled at his philosophical wife, pulling her close, kissing her again. "I love you," he murmured when they separated. "So much."

"Did I ever doubt it?" was all she said.

"Take a shower," she ordered. "You're all dirty. Don't dogs ever take baths?" she grumbled out of habit. Sirius smiled wryly. Yes, that was definitely his Meghan.

"Hard to keep up with personal hygiene in Azkaban," he said flippantly. "You know where Moony keeps the scissors around this place?"

BREAK

In the guestroom very late that night—or early the next morning, Sirius, with his hair cut, his beard (or semblance of one, wild as it was) shaved, and newly showered, couldn't, for the life of him, get to sleep. His arm was around Meghan's waist, holding her close, but even knowing that his wife was beside him wasn't helping. Ashley was snoring quietly on the floor, but that didn't lull him to sleep, although it was endearing to hear his daughter.

"Meghan?" he asked, something surfacing in his mind.

"Mmm?" she murmured sleepily.

"What's with Hermione and Harry?" When she made a small confused noise, he elaborated. "They're so shy it's painful. In fact, I think the only reason that Harry's opened up to me so easily and quickly is because his mind recognizes me for somewhere. Hermione didn't say more than a dozen words to me all evening."

"Mmm. I know," she agreed with a yawn. "She doesn't say hardly anything to me either. There's only two people she'll talk to at any sort of length."

"Who?"

"Harry, of course, and Kate," she yawned again. "Doesn't say much to either of them, anyway." She snuggled down into the mattress. "Funny. She reminds me of someone I once knew."

"Who?"

"You, summer of 1974. Won't say much except to a few people. Or in your case, one person. I was the only one _you_ talked to at length for about a week." Sirius let out one long, disbelieving breath, shocked. Meghan just snuggled up to him and seemed to once again fall asleep, breathing regular and her eyes closed.

No. That couldn't be it. Never. Not to a sweet little girl like Hermione. Who in their right mind would raise their hand to an eight-year-old that never did anything wrong?

And yet, each and every one of her actions spoke of child abuse. Her reluctance to speak to strangers. The flinching from any positive human touch, just as Moony had said. Her inability to understand and accept the kindness of other adults. He'd recognize it anywhere—because he'd done the same for a week after every school year started. And Harry. Harry was another mystery entirely. He was quiet, silent until either he remembered you or figured you out. Sirius thought he recognized that as well. He had the same reluctance to talk to anyone, the same inability to fathom adults who cared for him, but the entirely different thing was his trust. He had the measure—of these people at least—in a flash, and gave his trust willingly. Hermione was more cautious, and withheld her trust. She took much longer to get someone's measure.

"Sirius, is something wrong?" Meghan asked, uncertain. So she was awake.

"Just thinking, love," he murmured. "You go to sleep now." He pulled his loved wife closer, kissing her hair as she went out like a light.

_Kids, you know you can tell us everything_ was his last thought before his own eyes closed.

BREAK

Kate woke early the next morning, as usual, as Hermione ghosted past her open door. _Aww, she's finally beat me,_ she thought resignedly as she showered and dressed. She hurried to the kitchen, not Apparating as she usually did, only to find petite Hermione already fixing two bowls of cereal with milk. She smiled at Hermione as she brought the cereal to the table. Hermione smiled shyly and took a seat next to Kate.

"Excited about your parents coming back?" Kate asked casually halfway through her bowl. Hermione hesitated a moment.

"Yes," she said finally, carefully, obviously thinking her answer over. "I missed them," she added unconvincingly.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Hermione?" Kate asked tactfully. The girl shook her curly-haired head. "No? Are you sure?" Another brief, almost painful moment of hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am. There's nothing wrong, ma'am." Kate didn't quite believe her, but knew the subject should be left alone as soon as possible.

"You beat me down here today," Kate commented. "I like to flatter myself that it's a little difficult to do. How early were you up?" she asked concernedly. The last thing she needed was for Hermione to make herself sick from lack of sleep.

"Five," she said softly. Kate checked the clock. It was now six-thirty. She appeared to have beaten Kate by an hour—waking up at least. Kate shook her head.

"You, Miss Hermione, are a tad bit crazy," Kate informed her. "I haven't seen five a.m. since last month. I much prefer five-thirty." She pulled out a day planner. "Well, your parents said they'll be back by about nine. Shall we call up Remus's and see if he, Meghan, Ashley, and the mutt are awake yet?"

"I…I wouldn't want to disturb anyone," Hermione teetered. Kate nodded understandingly. They finished breakfast and washed their dishes in silence. Kate wandered through the house, muttering something about cleaning the already-pristine place.

At eight-fifteen, the phone rang. Hermione picked it up. "Grangers' residence. This is Hermione," she said, right into the receiver, just loud enough that whichever person was on the other end would hear her.

"Hermione Rose?" the voice she least wanted to hear said curtly. Hermione replied in assent. "Good. We'll be driving up momentarily. I trust you've behaved well for Miss Bassett?"

"Yes, Dad," she said meekly. Miss Kate was standing behind her. She hoped the woman couldn't hear anything that Dr. Granger was saying. "Well then," he continued, "I see no need to punish you as of yet. But I will be talking to Miss Bassett."

"Yes, sir," she said again. Kate seemed worried. Hermione listened to the words coming from the other end. "I hope, for your sake, that she confirms your story. Otherwise, you've been lying to me."

"I haven't, sir," she started to panic. "I don't lie."

"I should hope not. See that you don't. You know what happens when you lie," said Stephen Granger coolly. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Dad," she said politely, and hung up the phone. Just as she heard it click against the base, she hoped he had hung up first. Hanging up on one's father was a serious offense of impoliteness. She looked at Kate, who asked, "What was your father calling for, Hermione?"

"He and Mum are driving up right now," she said distractedly. "He'll be wanting to talk to you once they get here." _I hope he hung up first,_ she chanted over and over in her head. _If he didn't…I'm probably sleeping on my stomach again tonight._

The Drs. Granger sent Hermione to her room immediately after they danced, very carefully, through the ritual family greetings. She dashed upstairs like an arrow shot from a bow.

"Miss Bassett," Stephen Granger greeted Kate curtly, formally. She tried a smile and "Good morning," as she was asked to sit down. "Miss Bassett, might I ask, was Hermione Rose—well- behaved—during our holiday?"

"Oh, she was an angel, Dr. Granger. What do you feed this girl?" she joked. "I need your recipe for some of the other kids I look after. She didn't do anything wrong. Not a toe out of line. I enjoyed looking after her." Kate smiled at the dentists. "If you ever leave again, feel free to give me a call."

"Nothing—unnatural—happened?" Serena asked delicately. Kate shook her head, confused. "Good. She didn't bother you about anything, did she? Stayed out of your way?"

"The only thing she ever asked was to meet her friend at the park. They were both very good when they got together. Not a toe out of line, either one," she repeated.

"Thanks ever so, Miss Bassett," Serena said sweetly with a smile that didn't quite reach her cold brown eyes. Kate winced inwardly, wondering what they were like for Hermione. Stephen paid her, shook her hand, and showed her to the door.

"Tell Hermione I said goodbye, and that she can come visit if she likes," she told the dentist as she left. "We spent a very nice month together." She winked at the stoic man and disappeared around the corner.

"Bassett is altogether too cheerful," he grumbled as he shut the door. "Hermione Rose! Come down here, young lady. We have a few things to discuss."

The girl ghosted into the room. "Yes, sir?" she said courteously. Too courteously for an eight-year-old. "What was it you needed to discuss with me, sir?" Stephen motioned for her to sit down across from where he had taken a seat.

"Tell me, did you intentionally hang up on me this morning?" he asked her reasonably. Very reasonably. Hermione shook her head vehemently. "Well, then, we'll let that slide, since I'm in a lenient mood today. Now, Miss Bassett did say you'd behaved very well for her. There was no, as we say, abnormality. No _funny_ business. Which, I must say, leaves me very confused, young lady. How is it, Hermione, that, with a stranger, you will hold your unnaturalness in? Around us, you appear to have no control whatsoever. Do you think, miss, that we tolerate it any more than strangers do?" Hermione was aching to blurt the truth out, to blurt it all out, but she managed to keep her silence.

"Hermione Rose!" her sweet-faced mother barked. "Answer your father's question." Serena looked sternly at her daughter, who was paling.

"No, sir. I don't think so, sir." Stephen was apparently not satisfied. "Go to your room, young lady, and you are forbidden to come out of your room for the rest of the day. Think about control while you are up there."

"Yes, sir," she said obediently, hurrying from the room and her volatile father. Stephen settled back into his chair and Serena picked a book up off the shelf. All was normal in the Granger household, now that Katherine Bassett had gone home.

No one who knew the Grangers and their little girl would suspect that anything was amiss. The Drs. Granger were back from holiday, reclusive, bookish Hermione was in her room, and no sound came from the house. There was nothing out-of-place about that. A normal, suburban family lived in that house.

BREAK

_Why me?_ Hermione thought late that night. Her father had gone out to visit some friends earlier and come back stone drunk, even though he said it was bad for your teeth. He'd found out that she'd sneaked out of her room for a glass of water. He'd caught her in the middle of the hallway as she headed for the bathroom. He'd dragged her back to her room and started to hit her. She could feel her eye getting puffier. Her ribs ached. Her neck and throat were sore; she wouldn't want to say anything for a few days, until the bruising went down. One of her fingers felt broken. She knew she probably wouldn't be leaving her room for the rest of the week either.

She wasn't sure why her father went from lenient to ruthless of her not using her magic around Kate. She wasn't sure why that meant she needed to starve for a day, and another, and another, and another. There had just been so much to think about, her magic hadn't had the time to do anything. Mr. Lupin hadn't sought out her father to tell him about that shield she'd accidentally created, either. Of course, he wouldn't do that out of fear of her magic, because he had magic as well.

She sat on the floor, flashlight in hand, one of the posters of Mr. Black as a dog—how strange it had been to see him make the transition from animal to human—on her lap. She committed Mr. Lupin's address and phone number to memory. Maybe sometime later, when she wasn't stuck in her room, she could slip out and see how Mrs. Black, Mr. Black, and Mr. Lupin were doing. If she was lucky—which she usually wasn't—maybe Miss Kate would be there too.

Hermione turned off the flashlight and crawled uncomfortably into bed. _There's really no one out there who knows about this, or understands. I'm not even sure if it's for my own good anymore._ With that last, incoherent thought, she closed her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, often tossing and turning with nightmares and no one to soothe them.

BREAK

Harry Potter had been sleeping on his stomach for a week. His mistake with the time on the day they'd found his godfather had cost him his back, his ribs, one of his hands, and an eye for a while. He could still feel his Uncle Vernon's vicious strikes and heavy punches. The only thing that kept him from forgetting that he truly had a life and a reason to live it was the thought of his new friend, Hermione, and the motley group of adults he almost considered his family. He had vague memories of all of them, presumably from his early childhood.

The last day of the week, he once again headed for the neighborhood playground. He found Hermione there, as usual. He climbed the dome to meet her. As he drew closer, he could see a fading blue-and-purple bruise around one of her always sad green-hazel eyes, and felt that no more needed to be said.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Hey," she responded. The usual silence was stifling, but both children were reluctant to break their last shield. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the top bar of the ten-foot dome.

"Have you been here often lately?" she asked, a little distantly, coolly.

"No, haven't you?" he replied.

"I've been confined to my room," she answered flatly. "I'm starting to get more than a little hungry," she confessed. Harry looked at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. "My dad caught me going for water when he came home drunk." Harry nodded sympathetically.

"Uncle Vernon drinks too," he told her, a little sadly. "He almost killed me…or he tried to, the night I came back late." He wasn't sure why he was telling her all of this. He'd never told anyone. He was afraid to tell anyone.

Little did he know, his friend was thinking the same thing.

_Why are you telling him this? Hermione, it's for your own good,_ a voice said in her head. _No, it's not,_ another voice, a weaker voice, tried to contradict. The stronger first voice overpowered the second one as it chanted its message over and over again in her head.

"Look, Harry, I know it looks bad—" she wondered what her mouth was saying. She never talked like this. "Really bad. But really, it's for my own good. My parents do know what they're doing. They're in charge."

Harry seemed to accept the longest-worded sentence she'd ever said to him. "Have you seen them since?" Both of them knew which "they" he meant. She shook her head slowly, wondering if he'd heard her.

"I've been confined to my room," she repeated.

"Oh, sorry." Silence once again engulfed the duo. Hermione sat there for a quarter of an hour before looking directly at Harry. Her bright green-hazel gaze threw him off-balance in its own intensity. She had been thinking, and had finally arrived at a conclusion. "Harry, can we go and visit Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, and Mrs. Black?" she asked boldly, for once saying what was on her mind openly. Harry was confused for half a minute, until he remembered her carefully executed formality around the four adults they had recently come to know.

"Of course!" he almost shouted. "I've missed them, all of them," he added in a quieter tone. "They—well." Hermione nodded, knowing what he didn't want to verbalize. _They really do understand who we are._

"Then let's," she said, suddenly charged up by her involuntary sojourn in the upstairs room. "I need be home by four, though," she added timidly.

"We can tell Remus," Harry suggested. He was already preparing for the imminent drop to the ground. Hermione dropped as well, in unison with her friend, and the children headed for Remus Lupin's house.

BREAK

A/N: And we hit the angst again...this story is really awful. I bounce from angsty to humorous like a drunken idiot. Meghan's called in sick today...well, Meghan Black anyway. Meghan Lupin was getting herself written just fine...don't even ask. I'm just going to remind you I appreciate any comments you make, even if I dislike them muchly...they will help me be mad at my writing.

Luv, LysPotter

Also Luv from the absent Meghan


	7. 6 Would You Stand Up and Walk Out on Me

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, the characters would run away screaming and tearing their hair out in a frantic attempt to escape the confines of my completely insane mind. Therefore, you see, I do not own Harry Potter…Wow, imagine that….DAMN and I was so looking forward to that castle in England…

**Previously**: Hermione's parents return from España, Harry and Hermione get whacked around, and they meet at the playground. They decide to visit our favorite people, the Blacks, Kate, and Remus, at Remus's home. (If you're wondering what took so long, see Author's Note at bottom.)

**Warnings: **Mentions of child abuse (I figured out that a lot of people do this) and possibly swearing, although I can't honestly remember if there is. Self-deprecation and ANGST ABOUNDS! Also a bit of a love scene later in the chapter. Involves kissing.

**Chapter Six: Would You Stand Up and Walk Out on Me?**, in which Harry and Hermione visit Remus's home, Harry and Hermione tell their greatest secrets, and Kate and Remus come to an understanding. (ON WITH THE STORY!)

A falsely brown-eyed and -haired Sirius sat with a late lunch in front of him, reading some of the _Daily Prophet_ articles from the day after Meghan and Ashley's supposed "death". He was laughing at some of the teary statements made by old school enemies, knowing all they wanted was the publicity afforded by the Prophet, not to really respect Meghan's memory. Suddenly he heard a timid knock on the door.

The man started up for the door, hoping against all hope that at least one of the persons behind the door was the one he most wanted to see right now. He pulled it open just after a second timid knock. The soft, boyish voice that had haunted his thoughts a week ago piped up, "We're looking for Remus Lupin's home, sir?"

It was Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

"You found it. Come on in," he told them quickly. As soon as they were in, he shut the door. "Meghan! Ashley! Remus! We have visitors!" he called as he pulled down his glamour charms with Meghan's wand.

His eyebrows shot up when four people clattered down the stairs. Kate was red-faced. Meghan was triumphant. Remus looked just as lost as Sirius. Ashley wasn't paying attention.

"Kate?" Sirius said expectantly, folding his arms over his chest. Meghan was still grinning like a Cheshire kneazle, but Kate flushed an even brighter red and said, "Apparated."

"Ah. As you can see, Harry and Hermione have joined us." The other three smiled at the children. "We missed you two," Sirius added. "Come on further in, have a seat."

"How's it been going?" Meghan asked when the adults were all crammed onto Remus's couch. The children sat on the floor—as usual. "Fine," Harry said after a moment of hesitation. Hermione kept her head down and her mouth shut like a clam. "Hermione? How's everything going with you, sweetheart?" The girl, surprised to be addressed personally, started up, her eyes coming to rest on Meghan's.

"Fine, ma'am," she said quietly—for how else could she talk? Any louder and she would hurt her still-tender throat. She was still looking into Meghan's arresting deep blue eyes, the color of sapphires, when Sirius saw it. The fading bruise around her right eye was still stark against her otherwise unblemished skin. "Hermione!" he exclaimed. She scooted away from him and his voice, a fearful look in her eyes. "Sorry. But what did you do to your eye?" She ducked her head again.

"I walked into a door?" she tried tremblingly in her nonetheless clear voice. Sirius felt his heart clench. He remembered saying the same thing. For some reason, everyone had believed him then. But he wouldn't believe her now.

"Come here, Hermione," he said in the gentlest tone his hoarse, tired voice could manage. The girl obediently stood and came over to him. "Look at me." Her shy yet penetrating gaze somehow reminded him of the first time he'd seen Kate, when she was just a young, confused Muggleborn girl looking for a seat on the train. Both girls, past and present, were lost. But one had no hope to be found, the only thing that differentiated her look from Kate's. He raised a hand to her eye, to feel the current severity of the bruise. She backed away. "No, sir, please," she whispered.

"Hermione," he said again to the girl still shrinking away from the adults. "Look at me." She turned her gaze up from the floor and back to him. "I won't hurt you, Hermione," he told her softly. Meghan was watching her husband and the small girl intently, almost nostalgic in her sadness. "I promise you that." Hermione's eyebrows came together, confused. "Hermione, no one should hurt you. Ever." Meghan distantly remembered saying nearly the same thing when talking to Sirius long before in 1974. But the seventeen-year-old Sirius understood and accepted that better and easier than the eight-year-old Hermione. She sent Ashley out of the room. She had no need to hear this.

"It's for my own good," her forlorn voice said. Sirius swore fluently under his breath. "Daddy says so. He says it's because I'm so unnatural. If I wasn't so bad, he'd be nicer to me. It's my fault."

"No," Meghan interrupted forcefully. She couldn't stand it any more. "Hermione, most parents would go crazy over a child as well-behaved and polite as you. It's not right for your parents to hurt you and put you down. You're not unnatural. You are the sweetest girl I've ever met, and that's all there is to it. You are a wonderful person to know. I admire your perseverance and your patience."

Sirius was banging his head against the wall. "No, no, no," he was muttering. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Meghan pulled him away from the wall. "Sirius," she said, scolding. "Look at me." He complied. "Look, I know you're bound to think every single hurtful thing that happens to a child is bad—and don't get me wrong, you're definitely right. I won't argue with that—but you think it's your fault. It's _not_ your fault. You're not the one who's beating the child. Don't take it so bloody personally. Just fix what's wrong." When he just stared at her, she put a hand on his arm, worried. "What is it?"

"I missed you," he said simply. Ashley was humming to herself in the other room. Meghan ignored the noise for the moment. "Everyone else I know had too much sympathy for the glooms anyway. You never let me mope around for too long. But…but Meg, I knew. Or at least I thought I knew. And I was right."

"Would you have said something at their age?" she challenged. "No. I know you wouldn't have, Sirius, because you didn't say anything about it until you were bloody seventeen, already a teenager, for Christ's sake! Did anyone ever know about what happened to you?" He shook his head. "Don't beat up on yourself. I told you she was just like you. Hermione, come here, love. Let's have a look at that nasty bruise. Maybe I can clear it up for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Black," she said courteously.

"Call me Meghan," she corrected. "No one calls me Mrs. Black. Of course, no one knows I'm Mrs. Black. Ooh, that looks painful. Let me help. But I'm going to have to touch it to heal it. Can you trust me to do that, love?"

"Umm, sure," she said in an uncertain way. Sirius immediately realized she would lose her composure if his wife were to touch her. He tried to caution her, but she had tried anyway, and Hermione backed away, raising her arms over her head as she dropped to the ground.

"I didn't mean to," she protested, seeing something descending on her, hurting her. "Please!" Kate was next to her, murmuring reassuring words as she pulled Hermione's arms away from her head and face. Remus was humming a lullaby his mother had sung whenever he had awakened from a nightmare. Their combined efforts caused Hermione to relax into a more open position, her knees still relentlessly pulled up to her chest. The adults exchanged saddened looks.

"Harry," Sirius said, determined to tackle objective number two before it was too late, "how about you? What's your home life like?"

"Well, fine, I guess. I spent most of the week in my cupboard," and he promptly shut his mouth, obviously not wanting or intending to say anymore. Sirius was determined to get it out of him somehow.

"Harry, you know you can tell us everything, sport. What's on your mind, Pronglet?" he asked carefully. Harry looked at the ground, pulling his own knees up to his dangerously skinny chest. "Harry, we don't get emotional very often. Make the best of it. Please, Harry, just tell us." Harry stubbornly refused to talk. Sirius sighed, going through every curse word he knew in his head. It took a little while. "Very well. How about I tell you a story first?"

He didn't wait for affirmation. "Well, when I was a kid, my parents were what we wizards call purebloods. Moony—that's Remus, here—explained that to you. They thought that only purebloods should get magical education, et cetera, et cetera. They didn't like people like Kate and Hermione and Harry's mum studying magic. I didn't think the same way. When they figured that out, they decided that they only way that they could 'fix' it was to hit me and push me around. I went with it for about ten years. And then I left. I up and left. I couldn't take it anymore. I went to your grandparents' house, Harry, and Meghan helped me out. Then I realized that I should have told someone about it a long time ago. Child abuse is wrong. No matter who it is, it's always wrong.

"Now, Harry, do you have anything to tell us? We can only help you if we know what's wrong." Harry held out for a moment more before he relented.

"Yes," was all he said, but that word cut Sirius to his very soul. Not his godson, James's son. Why? Meghan dropped to the floor and gathered her nephew in a hug. He stiffened momentarily, then relaxed into his aunt's strong arms. "Oh, Harry," she murmured in his ear. "You never should have gone with them. I should have had you. Sirius and I. You're not going back. Never." She pushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead, which bore the telltale lightning bolt scar. "You're still my Pronglet. You'll always be my Pronglet."

Hermione was starting to edge away from the family scene, and away from Kate. She had no place here, in this gathering of Harry's loved ones. "I need to go home," she muttered under her breath. She tried to slip away without anyone seeing her, but Remus caught her arm. "Do you want to?" he asked simply. She paused, uncertain. "I—I don't know," she floundered. "Dad would want me to. He told me to be home by four."

"Do _you_ want to go home, though?" Kate repeated. "It's only three-thirty yet." Meghan and Sirius herded Harry out of the room to talk to him. Kate and Remus and Hermione, the "dysfunctional three", Kate thought wryly, were alone in the room.

BREAK

Meghan and Sirius put Harry in a chair at the kitchen table. Sirius sent Ashley to the guest-room. Meghan rooted through the refrigerator, coming up with a plate of food for her nephew. She put it down in front of him. "Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet."

Harry complied. He was trying not to fall on the food, she could tell. He obviously hadn't seen food in a few days. Meghan was fretting inwardly. If he was this hungry…when _did_ they feed him? How much could his stomach take?

Sirius looked at his godson. "Harry, I know what you're going through. It sucks, doesn't it? And what's more, you really think there's nothing you can do about it." Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. "Your only friend is Hermione, isn't it, Pronglet?" he asked. Harry nodded again. "And she can't do for you what your aunt did for me. She understands your problem, but there's too much similarity. Neither one of you wants to take the initiative and get out of home. You're both too afraid of your relatives." He sighed. "Harry, I want you to answer me honestly. Can you do that?" Harry nodded a third time, looking up in shock. Emerald-green and silver-gray met, Sirius's gaze more solemn than many people had ever seen. Harry jerked his gaze down again. "Any question I ask?" Harry murmured a "Yes."

"Good." Sirius took a deep breath, then asked his question. "Harry, how bad is it?" He realized that the boy wouldn't know what he meant, and rephrased his question. "What do they do to you?"

Harry bravely met Sirius's eyes. "I suppose it's worst when Uncle Vernon—h—has a belt," he said, lifting his chin as if to say, 'and he can't get me here'. Sirius swore inwardly.

"Does he use it often?"

"Yes." Why was it that these kids could break you with one word? Harry's broken-hearted "yes". Hermione's hopeless "please". Each came right from their soul, the only place their relatives couldn't injure. Or, at least, hadn't broken yet, Sirius thought savagely.

"What else, Harry?" he forced himself to ask, even though he didn't want to know.

"Uncle Vernon…and Dudley, too, I guess, they like to…hit me. Punch me. He might have broken a rib…again."

The pauses. The pauses were killing Sirius. He could see Meghan crumbling. Why beat him? Such a kid would have been so welcome in his childhood home. He admitted that he had often talked back to his parents. He had been emboldened by what he saw in his friends. This child's only friend was in the same deep hole that he was in. His parents would have loved such a docile child.

"Aunt Petunia makes me burn myself," he said very quietly. His hand, they could see now, had a burned area on it. "When I iron, or when I'm cooking. I don't even know why. Why do they do this? Am I a freak? Really, am I a freak? Does everyone just not want me, not love me?"

"No, no, Harry. Don't listen to a word they say," Meghan said. "They think they can break you by telling you no one loves you. They're wrong. I love you, Sirius loves you, Remus loves you, Kate loves you. Your parents love you, even though they can't be here to watch you grow up. Harry, you are so loved and so lovable. Don't you ever think you're not."

BREAK

_I'm no good with kids,_ Remus thought desperately. _Meghan should have stayed. She's probably the best of us for dealing with this. Maybe Sirius._ But even as his traitorous thoughts tried to speak for him, he saw that Kate was comforting the child. She coaxed the girl into her lap and carefully put her arms around her, whispering kind words in her ear, calming the timid, vulnerable girl. The docile child relaxed into the hug. Remus smiled at the picture they made. They could be mother and daughter.

An idea touched down in his head. Sirius, Meghan, Ashley and Harry. With a few glamour charms and possibly some hair dye, they could pass for an unrecognizable family. They _were_ a family. He, Kate, and Hermione—some clever glamour charms and no one would ever recognize him or Kate. No one in the wizarding world knew Hermione for obvious reasons. They could easily pass for a family as well. But he was getting ahead of himself. Kate didn't love him. They wouldn't create anything like a functional family anytime soon.

Kate rocked Hermione back and forth as she thought unknowingly similar thoughts. What she wouldn't give to remove the little girl from her biological parents' care and raise her herself, in a loving environment. And if Remus would be willing to pose as Hermione's father, they could go under an alias as a different family. She shook her head to clear it. _Castles in the air, Katherine,_ she scolded. _Don't go counting your chickens before they hatch._

She looked down at the girl in her lap as she stroked her hair carefully, not wanting to startle the girl, who had relaxed into a trancelike stupor. "Hermione?" she called softly. "Mione?" When Hermione jerked up and looked at her oddly, Kate felt obligated to explain. "Sorry. Do you mind, Mione? It works so well." "Mione" shook her head.

"I like Mya," Remus commented. Hermione, or Mya, or Mione, gave an uncertain shrug of her shoulders as a response. "Well, Miss Mya, are you hungry? If you are, we can grab some leftovers from Sirius's lunch."

"'m fine," she said automatically. She didn't, however, move from Kate's lap. As Hermione tentatively laid her head under Kate's chin, the brunette woman looked at Remus, helpless and bewildered. _Just be nice,_ he mouthed. She nodded over Hermione's head. If she startled the child now, they would have to regress to stage one to bring her out of her shell again.

They sat there for a long time, Kate and Remus and Hermione. No longer feeling like a dysfunctional three, the silence that surrounded them like a warm blanket was comfortable. After a while, Hermione began making sleeping noises. Kate looked questioningly at Remus, who nodded. She was asleep. Kate found herself desperately wondering what the poor child's home life was like. She wanted to be there, to see, to know, to kill her parents…okay, maybe that was going a little too far.

"Do you think anyone's every given her a hug?" Kate asked quietly. "I mean, I know we should actually be worried about Harry, since we knew James and Lily—and I'm not saying I'm not worried about him—but Hermione—Mya here, she seems to be in real need of some positive human touch. I don't think anything positive has happened to her in her life, and I hate her parents for doing such a thing to an innocent little girl."

"I agree," Remus said. "I hate hearing about child abuse. It makes me feel so helpless. I really wonder how they can do that, since abused children are usually the most polite. Seeing the result in front of you is far worse, especially when you never guessed." He lapsed into silence. Kate broke it again.

"She's going to be a real beauty when she gets older, this one," she said softly, brushing back defiantly wildly curly dark-brown hair to reveal delicate features and a slightly smiling mouth. "How can she smile after all she's been through?" Kate asked, hoping that she wasn't crying yet. "She's such an optimist, even in being a pessimist. She thinks she has no hope of ever leaving that house, yet she smiles. She's a brave one. Such a kind girl, as well."

"I know. She reminds me of someone I once knew," Remus said, taking a gamble. Kate's eyebrows pulled together.

"Who?"

"You, of course," he said. "You were the quietest thing when we found you on the train that first year. And I think you're lovely." Kate looked to be warring with her emotions. "It takes a lot of courage for someone who knows next to nothing of the wizarding world to ask a train compartment full of wizards for a seat." Remus carefully lifted feather-light Hermione onto the couch and sat next to Kate, who now had her lap empty, but her head and unsuspecting heart full of both thoughts and worries.

"Kate," Remus spoke up again. "Hear me out, even if you feel only friendship. I've had a crush on you for the longest time. It's more than just a crush now. You're kind, and funny, and, and—my God, this would have been so much easier fourteen years ago. I just love the way you look at me—damn, why the hell am I going first? All the emotional rubbish is the woman's job. Oh well, I've started, I have to finish. Hermione brought us together again for a reason, I think. Fate wants us together. She put us side by side to finish this out together. Listen, Kate, I know I love you." He paused. "I hope you know too."

"God, Remus, how am I supposed to match your speeches? I'm going to need a flipping speechwriter." She raked her long hair back from her face with her fingers, thinking about how she could say what she was feeling. "I had a crush on you in sixth and seventh year that I was convinced was unrequited. There's no point in asking Meghan, she didn't know until today. I don't know how many diary entries I wrote about you and how, like they always say; I didn't want it until I couldn't have it. I was convinced you'd never like me. I was convinced you didn't even care who I really was. And so I didn't say anything.

"Well, I'm saying it now. I get it, Remus. I really do. And it's all pointing back at you. Every time I dated before and after that, when I thought that so and so would be the one? He never was, never at all. It was always you, Remus. Even if I didn't know it, it was always you." Now it was a real fight not to cry.

"Speechwriter? Pah. You can write mine for me anytime." Kate smiled and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. He had a different idea. He turned, and took her chin in his hand as he instead kissed her on the lips. The kiss was short, sweet, and careful, almost bittersweet. It asked a question. She responded by kissing him back.

"You have no idea how long I've waited and wanted to do that," Remus said when Kate smiled at him.

"Then perhaps we should try again," she suggested, he voice husky with emotion.

They leaned together again, and this kiss was long and loving, fueled by the unconcealed heat of passion. Remus ran his tongue along her lower lip, asking entrance. She allowed it. They explored each other, Remus's hands buried in Kate's hair, while Kate's hands held his shoulders, keeping him close. Remus Lupin and Kate Bassett were finally a couple. And they just happened to be snogging in front of a sleeping eight-year-old. Kate smiled inwardly at the complete irony of the moment. Hermione had probably seen this coming. And strangely enough, both of them had as well. They had long hoped the day would come sooner, and although it hadn't quite come sooner, it was now here, and Kate didn't want to let it go. They separated reluctantly. But after all, human beings needed to breathe.

"Wow," breathed Remus, smiling a little, his green-hazel eyes over-bright with happiness. Kate nodded, unable to articulate her feelings. No words in the world could have expressed the moment. How could she have doubted his love for her? No. All that mattered was that she no longer did, and never would again.

This time it was Kate on Remus's lap. He put his arms around her waist, and she relaxed into his embrace. "I love you, Remus Lupin," she said aloud for the first time, savoring the words.

"Same to you, beautiful," he murmured in her ear. "Same to you." They sat there in silence, enjoying each other's company, until Hermione began to thrash around on the couch. Kate stood up. Remus looked at the child worriedly.

"No, Daddy, please!" she was pleading. "No—I promise, it was an accident—no, Daddy, I didn't!—Mummy, no, please, I won't do it again! It just happened, I couldn't control it!" She began to sob brokenly. She was still caught in the throes of her vicious nightmare. "No," she whispered. "Why me?"

"Hermione!" Kate called, trying to wake her up. "Hermione, wake up, it's just a bad dream! Hermione, wake up, it's Kate. You have to wake up, love. Mya? Come back, Mya!"

"Come on, Hermione, it's not real," Remus murmured reassuringly in her ear—he had come over beside her. "Your parents aren't here. They aren't going to be here. If necessary, I'll stop them at the door. You'll always be safe here. Trust me, Hermione. Trust me." He continued to mutter soothing nonsense in her ear, but the fiendish nightmare was determined to keep its hold on the girl. She thrashed away, like she was trying to avoid something. "But, Daddy, I only do what you tell me! I was just thirsty, Daddy, I haven't had a drink all day! Please, sir. Please, no…" She broke down, no longer trying to defend her innocence. "I did it. Just leave me alone. Please, Dad—please, sir. Mummy, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Hermione! Hermione, you have to wake up. If you can't wake up, I'll have to wake you up. You don't want to stay there." Hermione didn't show any sign of hearing her. She was still crying. Each pitiful sob tore at Kate's heart. She had to stop this. She put her hand on her surrogate daughter's thin shoulder. Immediately awake she scrambled away from the feather-light touch, her knees up to her chest and her hands over her head. When she saw who it was, she lowered her arms.

"Sorry, Miss Bassett, Mr. Lupin," she apologized. "I was, er, having a bad dream?" Was that a question? Kate nodded. "Oh, I know, though. I remember. Not meaning to be disrespectful, Miss Bassett," she hurried to say.

"It's not disrespectful in the least, and Hermione, we went over this. Call me Kate, and call him Remus," Kate replied.

"Yes, ma'am. Kate. Remus."

"Good-o. Now, let's go grab a snack. I'm hungry," Kate declared. Hermione followed Kate and Remus, who were holding hands. She noticed, and smiled shyly. She had suspected there was something more between them…

Meghan, Sirius, Ashley, and Harry were already clustered around the kitchen table. Harry was looking a little happier, Sirius less grim—no pun intended—and Meghan was animated. Meghan was telling a story. Sirius was looking at the ceiling, clearly resigned.

"What's she talking about now, Sirius?" Remus asked him. "Bragging about something, probably." Kate smiled crookedly and nodded. They were familiar with Meghan and Sirius's _difference of opinion_ on certain stories. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Quidditch game when we were younger," he explained tiredly. "She caught the Snitch, of course—Whoa! When did you two start holding hands?" he demanded. "People need to keep me updated about this sort of thing! You know I'm not much for gossip."

"Kate!" Meghan squealed, stopping her story to turn and look at them, her eyes bright. "I knew leaving you three there was a good idea!" She was looking very self-satisfied. Sirius and Remus were looking wary.

"Not so stellar, Pearl," Kate disagreed. "Mya here had a nightmare." Meghan looked sympathetically at the girl, who backed away from all the attention. "You're sure you're all right, Hermione?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Black," she said automatically. The four adults traded looks, Sirius and Meghan telling about Harry while Remus and Kate responded with the latest on Hermione. Kate hustled Hermione into a chair and handed her a glass of water.

"So, Harry, how are things with you?" Remus and Kate asked in unison. No one laughed, however. Hermione was trying not to gulp the water. Her father had let her out of the room, but had cruelly sent her out of the house before she had a chance to get a drink. She'd had very little liquid in the past week, usually a small glass a day. Harry looked up from the picture Meghan had shown him of his parents. She'd brought it with her when she came over. Ashley was still absent. No one wanted her to hear anything about this.

"'m fine," he mumbled. Hermione tentatively touched his hand. He looked at her, and a current of unspoken understanding ran between the two of them. Kate excused herself, followed by Remus, then Sirius. Meghan looked at them for a moment before excusing herself as well. They all went to go talk to Ashley (in another room) in case she was feeling neglected, as she wouldn't understand. The two were left alone in the room together. Harry and Hermione sat across from each other. Harry was picking at the remnants of what Meghan had given him to eat. Hermione was fiddling with her empty glass.

"Why?" she said suddenly. "Why did they do this? Why don't they take me the way I am? Why such a big fuss over me? Why hit me? Why make every single thing I do wrong? Why treat me this way, like, like dirt? Why?"

"I don't know," Harry said defeatedly. "It's the same either way, choose six or half a dozen," he said cryptically. "I never did anything to the Dursleys. I do everything _for_ the Dursleys. Plus being their punching bag and chosen scapegoat," he said bitterly. "They did what they thought would stamp the abnormality out of me." He looked at his hands. Hermione's sharp eyes noticed the burned spot on his right.

"Same here. They told me it was my fault," Hermione told him, her fruitless emotionless mask crumbling. "That I forced them to do it. What if I did? What if I'm that bad of a person? What if everyone should hit me?"

"I don't think you're bad. I don't think everyone should hit you," Harry said kindly. "I hope you don't think I'm bad and everyone should hit me."

"NO! Of course not, no, you're the nicest person I've ever met. You shouldn't be doing all their work, especially because they have Dudley to help them. None of this is your fault. None of it should have happened to you."

"Ditto for you," Harry said. He pushed his black hair out of emerald-green eyes and looked Hermione in the eye. "I've never seen you angry at or mean to someone. I've never even heard you raise your voice." They sat in silence. Both were feeling better inside. They were working out their frustration and working on their self-esteem. And at the same time, their friendship was growing stronger.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked concernedly. Harry looked at her. "After last week, I mean. I imagine your uncle wasn't too pleased that he and your aunt had to cook their own dinner. He didn't hurt you too bad, did he? You're okay?"

"I'll just be sleeping on my stomach for a little while," Harry said dismissively. Hermione understood. "It's not like I've never done _that_ before." Hermione nodded, thinking that maybe she ought to be a little fiercer on his behalf but not knowing how.

"Me too." She thought about her week. "I need some sort of water supply in my room if they're going to keep locking me in there. I haven't eaten anything for two days. Mum remembered to bring me some bread three or four days ago. It wasn't much…but I tried to make it last. I was just so hungry."

"Here. Have some of this. Aunt Meghan gave me way too much anyway. If I eat all of that, I'll be sick." Harry pushed his plate of food toward Hermione. She obediently picked up a fork that had been lying on the table and picked at the plate. Then she put it down, thinking she might seem impolite.

"I think _I'll_ be sick if I eat too much. I don't know how much of what my stomach can handle," she confessed. "Besides, I'm sure you're plenty hungry. When was the last time you ate something, Harry?"

"Don't remember," Harry said vaguely. "But if I eat anything more, I won't keep any of it down. I'm not even sure I'm going to be able to keep this down." Hermione looked askance at him, openly skeptical. He was just trying to get her to eat something, wasn't he? He just nodded at her. She shrugged and took a bite of potatoes.

BREAK

Not another word was spoken between them. Harry silently showed Hermione pictures of his parents. She smiled, understanding what the images meant to him.

By the time the contented duo looked at the clock, they could hear the adults coming close to the door. It was quickly approaching five o'clock. Hermione gasped, stricken. How had it gotten so late? She had only just arrived! She stood up.

"I have to leave," she said quietly. Sirius, entering first, shook his head violently. Kate followed, saw what was going on, and reddened with rage. She looked ready to break something. Remus rechecked the clock, hoping that what she'd said wasn't so. Meghan's fists clenched dangerously. Harry, however, nodded sympathetically. He could only hope nothing too horrible would happen to her. She started for the door.

"Don't—bloody hell, Hermione, don't go. This'll be their excuse. You can't leave here…you can't go back there! Will you ever come back?" Kate had picked up a napkin and was reducing it to its molecular state. She'd just found her girl again. She couldn't leave yet! She couldn't go back to the hellish place she lived in. That was sure to kill her!

Hermione's eyes filled, but she disappeared nonetheless. Kate shook her head, her eyebrows knit in concern. Remus tentatively put an arm around her shoulders. "Kate, it's not really her choice." She looked at him, not wanting to accept what he was saying. "As much as you feel like she's yours—and in theory and probably the way she thinks of you, she's more yours than theirs, because they don't love her—she has biological parents that have a hold on her. They've—they've got her fear, Kate. That's a powerful thing, especially when dealing with children. Even though you love her, and she loves you back, she's kept captive by that fear, like a fear of the dark that keeps kids awake all night. She'll come to you only in terrible trouble, but she'll always go back to them because she thinks they'll seek her out and find her anyway. She thinks maybe they'll drag her back home if she doesn't go willingly. She's grown up with them, and even though you know they aren't God, she's grown up seeing them as having absolute power. She can trust them always to be the same, and they won't change who they are to her." He sighed. "Life sucks, doesn't it?"

Kate nodded savagely and picked up the glass the girl had left on the table when she rushed out the door. She threw it as hard as she could at the wall. Remus bit his lip childishly in worry. Kate smiled humorlessly. "Don't worry, love," she said as she pulled out her wand. "I'm going to fix it." She flicked the stick and said. "Reparo." The glass flew back together. Harry was openly staring, his eyes huge.

"Magic," Meghan explained. "It's just a charm." Harry nodded, also standing and walking to the door. "I ought to be getting back home. I, er, I need to help with the garden. It's getting overgrown again." He shrugged. "They overwater."

"Don't go, Pronglet," Sirius said, but Harry was already out the door and down the street. The others chimed in with their useless cautions against returning to home. It was a bittersweet moment to all. They'd found out what was wrong, but the children insisted on returning to their own personal hells on earth.

BREAK

A/N: SORRY it took me so long! All the lovely reviewers and especially Madm05, who were concerned about the story—my muse is on holiday, but I'm happy to say I still have enough of the story left to post some more until it comes back. I'm just lazy. As you can see, I'm updating again and hope to do so more regularly in the future. It's just I've been in school and I've started writing other stories that I'll probably never post and I've been to busy READING to write. And I had to read HBP again to see how I could work out Dray and Sev being good…but anyhoo, I'm back now and I will try to do so more regularly in the future.

JUST a word in my defense: I am young and have never had a boyfriend, so my love scenes are desperately lacking. Forgive them, if you would, since they are gleaned from fanfics and other books I read. Some of my romance scenes are overused…I'm sorry. I just have no experience with such things.

Meghan would like to say she agrees and that I am lazy. I think she speaks with my mother's voice, imagine that LOL! Anyhoo, I better go now and deal with the ants in the kitchen…

Enjoy the chapter, with love from,

LysPotter


	8. 7 Sense Is Often The Greatest of Faults

**Disclaimer: **Wow we're back to this…are we really THAT stupid? Point…Grunt, Snort, Grunt, Weep and Wail…that's supposed to mean I don't own Harry Potter. The idea of me owning Harry Potter is a laughingstock. I'm still very sad that I didn't come up with it first. (Amazing how you can say that with five or six sounds, huh?)

**Previously**: Harry and Hermione visit Remus's home, Harry and Hermione tell their greatest secrets, and Kate and Remus come to an understanding.

**Warnings: **Child abuse in detail and plenty of swearing. Self-deprecation—of course—and as always, ANGST ABOUNDS! Dammit, and I was trying to be nice when I started writing. All I end up doing is ruining my characters' lives. Be forewarned.

**Chapter Seven: Sensibility Is Often the Greatest of Faults**, in which Harry and Hermione are even worse off and the adults decide to do things the "right" way.

When they sat at the table again, all faces were dead serious. Sirius let his hand fall onto the table with a loud, heavy thud.

"I don't give a damn what Dumbledore or the bloody inefficient child authorities say, I am taking them out of there tomorrow. Dumbledore knew what the Dursleys were like—they've been using a belt on him, Remus! He probably hasn't been able to lie down or touch his back for days! Another mistake—my God, he'd be near dead. I don't give a damn for authority—these two are not staying with their 'guardians'. If I have my say, those 'humans' will all go to prison for abusing them, until they go to hell."

"And I _don't_ care what the bleeding hell anyone thinks of lycanthropy, I am adopting Hermione, and no one's going to make me give my cub up," Remus snarled, his eyes taking on a golden sheen and his voice rasping in his chest.

"Rem, calm down," Kate said patiently. "Besides, I get first crack at her damned parents. I've never used an Unforgivable Curse before…" she mused.

"Doesn't mean now is time to start. I'm an Auror, remember, I'd be obligated to arrest you," Meghan said off-handedly, her face unreadable. "Don't make me pull out those cuffs. I don't want to use them on my best friend and my daughter's godmother."

"As a special-clearance Unspeakable, you don't have any authority over me," Kate retorted. "I work for a top-secret branch of the Department of Mysteries," she forestalled Remus's eager questions. "Really, if I wanted to, I could tell you all about it. But then I'd have to kill you. Or give you a mind-wipe."

"Please don't, then," he said pleasantly. His eyes were still smoldering, though their color had returned to a green-hazel. Kate's usually mischievous face was set in furious lines, none of her usual easy humor present in her stance and overall demeanor. Meghan kept her lips tightly shut. Had she opened them, such swearwords would have emerged that they would have made an old, tough sailor flush red with embarrassment. Sirius was gripping the cup of water he'd just poured for himself tighter, tighter, tighter…It shattered. Again.

"Sirius!" Meghan scolded. She picked her wand up from the table and repaired the cup with a wave of the slender wooden stick. "You're worse than Kate!" Sirius's normally emotionless face was contorted in fury.

"I'm going to bloody kill them," he muttered dangerously. "And his cousin prevents him from having any friends at school. Tyrannical—" he inserted a distasteful, inappropriate (well, it might have been appropriate, given the circumstances) word, for which Meghan slapped him.

"Sirius Orion Black! You watch your language, sir!" she admonished.

"Sorry," he muttered insincerely.

"But I agree," she added a short moment later. "I even approve of the language—in this case. What dirty great prats! Bloody bastards!"

"And that's why I love you," he said sweetly, knowing his type of flattery wasn't usually very efficient with his wife. "You'll stick by what you profess to swear against. So, how much should we torture the Dursleys before we kill them, love?"

"Not too much. Just enough to show them the pain they inflicted on my nephew," she said evilly, fingering her wand as she spoke. "Sirius, we're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Think of a good disguise."

"Yes, madam. Why, pray tell, are we going to Diagon Alley?" he asked politely. "Is there a special reason, or just for fun?"

"You need a wand if we're going to torture anyone."

BREAK

Sirius, aka John Smythe, held Meghan's, aka Louise Campbell's, hand as they walked into Diagon Alley. Ashley "Campbell" was next to him. "Remember, if anyone asks, we went to the VMA and have been dating for years, just a little while after my husband Tom died. You took a job in Vancouver; we came to England. We dated via Floo, Apparating, you know what to say. Try to pretend you haven't been out of the normal wizarding loop forever."

"The VMA?" he asked, nonplussed.

"Vancouver Magical Academy in Canada. Just follow my lead?" Meghan looked sternly at the apprehensive man.

"Sure, whatever." They walked slowly to Ollivander's. Once near it, Meghan gave Sirius a Look. "Pretend you accidentally broke your wand dealing with a renegade Canadian Auror or something. Make it believable."

"How about it got regrettably confiscated in customs? Muggleborn me flew in an aeroplane with my Muggle best friend. He left for, what was it, Vancouver again just a day or two ago." Meghan shrugged, then nodded.

"That works too, I guess." She pushed open the door to the shop, then pushed him through. "Get in, come on, we promised to be back by lunchtime."

He stumbled in. "I'm going, I'm going. My God, woman! Patience! It's considered a virtue by most." Once inside, he noticed the old, pale-eyed Mr. Ollivander. "Mr. Ollivander," he greeted with a smile. "My name is Smythe. John Smythe. I'm from Canada, and the Muggle officials confiscated my wand going through customs. They didn't know what it was, obviously, so I suppose it's understandable. But we're getting off track. Sorry. Louise here told me this was the best place to buy a wand." He mentally thanked Meghan for teaching him to mimic the Canadian way of speaking.

"Mr. Smythe," the old man greeted him suspiciously, as he pulled a wand from behind the counter. "Try this one. Eight inches, willow, whippy." Sirius waved it and promptly broke a blown-glass ornament on the counter. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Sirius winced and apologized. "Oh, it's okay. Nothing a simple Repair Charm won't fix. This one. Seven inches, rosewood." The second one had barely made it in his hand before it was snatched away. "No. This one, ten and a half inches, yew. Don't think so. This one. Nine inches, oak. No."

Ashley was making faces by the window after about a quarter of the store was sitting on a free chair and Mr. Ollivander was in need of a repairman. "Here, try this one. Mahogany and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, pliable," he said proudly. He seemed sure it was the one. Sirius gripped it, and sure enough, he felt the magical core bind with him. "Ah, very good, very good," Ollivander said, seeming genuinely pleased. "One would think you'd been here and already bonded to your wand, Mr. Smythe. Tricky customer, eh, miss?" he asked Meghan.

"Should have known it would take you forever, John," she said affectionately, coming over to shove him gently. "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, sir. John, pay and let's leave," she whispered in his ear. "We have to be home." He nodded once in understanding and did as his wife had instructed.

"Now," she said after they had Apparated back into Remus's home and sent Ashley to play in the living room, "we have the means to torture our friends the Dursleys. Moony! Kate! Anyone who knows who we are! We're back! Get your sorry arses over here."

"Coming, coming," came Remus's voice. "Sirius is equipped, then? He can go curse the Dursleys and bring Harry back?" He and Kate clattered down the stairs. "Kate here is getting pretty impatient, because I won't let her kill the Grangers until you curse the Dursleys silly." Kate nodded, messing up her hair in a failed attempt to look anxious. She looked insane more than anything. She felt insane. Insane with worry. This was her cub they were talking about, to use Remus's words! She was going to be protective!

"If I don't get my Mya out of that accursed house soon, she's going to need an effing doctor. I could feel her back; all of the scars there. That son of a bitch has been whipping her. I could feel her ribs through her shirt. They've been starving her as well. I didn't say anything about it to her, but still!"

"I know," Sirius said defeatedly. "I'm going to effing murder Dumbledore. Whoever told him the Dursleys could raise a child—ugh. They're first on my list. I suppose their _wonderful_ son is spoiled rotten, isn't he?" When he had grown up, he had been the one constantly looked down upon. His younger brother, Regulus, had reaped in all his parents' pleasure and leniency, while Sirius was their chosen scapegoat. Regulus was rewarded for his bad behavior and his inconsiderate actions. Sirius was demoted further and further, until his status was on par with the house-elf. The magical creature was seen as the bane of the wizarding world by his parents and their fellow pureblood maniacs.

"Well, he seems to be following in his Daddy dear's footsteps. He's the one that breaks Harry's glasses, practically daily." Meghan made a disgusted face, despairing for the sanity of all people and children of Little Whinging. "I'd say yes. I think we should curse him silly too. Just to finish it all out the right way. Go out with a bang. Make sure he won't—or can't—hurt anyone else the way he and his parents have Harry."

"Like I said, he's the reason Harry's had no friends in the summer or at school, 'cause he chases away anyone who's nice to Harry. Probably would do the same thing if he figured out about the friendship with Hermione," Sirius said sadly, staring at the table. "He doesn't want his cousin be better-liked than he is, I would assume. And Harry would be, if anyone noticed him. He's a good friend, and a better person than that cousin of his—Donkey, was it? Oh, no, it's Dudley. Right."

"He's the only friend she has as well. Her father doesn't let her get out much," Kate said slowly, painfully. "It's obvious he's never dealt with a real, unruly child before. If it were someone even remotely like a younger Meghan, the house would be in pieces by now." She sighed. "She doesn't even want the other kids to know she's there. If 'daddy finds out that I've been attracting attention to myself', he doesn't like it. I would assume that to mean he beats her. From the look on her face, that was what I understood to be the case." Her fists were clenched, as were her teeth. "Both of them need out. As soon as possible." Remus nodded. Kate scrutinized the faces at the table, her eyes flat and cold, promising a sticky end for anyone stupid enough to cross her path. She was like a mother lion on the warpath to save one of her cubs. "How soon can we liberate these poor kids?"

"Wait. Kate, we'll need a plan. Where are four adults and two kids going to live? A good idea would be a duplex type thing, but another question is where. We can't stay in Little Whinging, obviously."

"We could look for something in London," Meghan suggested. "I need to get out of Mum and Dad's house—all the way—anyway and I've always wanted to see what London was like."

"Well, you can take my car," Kate offered. "I walk everywhere I go here. Or I Apparate. I'm famous for being on time to social events. You and Sirius go out and check around…Speaking of Sirius, why hasn't anyone found out you're here yet?" Seeing Remus's prompting look, she elaborated. "Scrying spells? Has Remus anti-scry-charmed the house or some such thing? People have probably been scrying for him. I know Marie would have scryed—probably did scry—as soon as she heard the news. Someone ought to have seen him by now."

"You know how much I like my privacy, Kate," Remus said, pretending to be embarrassed. "I don't want everyone to be able to see my transformations." Kate looked at him pointedly. "I spelled it just before Meghan showed up. Didn't want anyone to see her and go into cardiac arrest. Dangerous thing, that." Kate shoved him playfully. He looked at her with feigned injured innocence. She grinned.

"Unless it was Cornelius Fudge," she said evilly. The whole group laughed.

"Coming back to the topic at hand. London real estate," Meghan said after a few more minutes of poking fun at the government. "Sirius and I'll go up there tomorrow and scout out all our—probably limited—options."

"Anything that looks good and functional, snap it up," Kate advised. "The sooner we get a place, the better." All faces were once again serious. "Does this mean we have to wait to curse those—those _people_?" she demanded.

"Yes, it does. We have to figure out what we're doing before we destroy the guardians' power to give them a home, et cetera. I mean, it's not a good home, but it is a roof over her head. I don't think we can all cram into my house," Remus said dryly. "We need to work on this before we take them out of—you know."

"I know, I know," Kate grumbled. "Still wish I didn't have to wait. That's going to hurt. And if Hermione gets hurt before you find a house, Meghan, Sirius, it's on your conscience. You hurry up and get a house. Sooner, rather than later, I demand." Her eyes dropped to the table and she traced a stain on the wood, worried and thinking about how complicated her life had become all of a sudden. "I need to help. What can I do?"

"Kate, you need to stay by the phone in case Harry or Hermione calls. Or, in case it's us calling to tell you we found a house and need you up there ASAP," Meghan said, putting her hand over Kate's, stilling the motion of the small, long-fingered hand. "We know how much this means to you. We'll try to do this as fast as possible because it means the same thing to us." She looked at Remus and Sirius, who nodded resolutely. "Let's do this."

BREAK

Hermione slipped in the back door, hoping no one would notice her coming in. She closed it silently and tried to make it up to her room.

Her father was standing on the stairs, waiting for her.

Hermione looked down, her heart racing. Not now. She didn't need this now. She _never_ needed this, never wanted it. She went out of her way to avoid it. She shouldn't have come back, she should have stayed away from him and what he'd do to her if she was late. _Please,_ she thought, _just let him do it quick and have it be over with._

"Hermione Rose," he said, his voice chilling her to the bone, "you are late. I remember very well telling you to be home by four. Did I not tell you to be home by four, Hermione Rose?"

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, wishing she was not here, that she was not saying this. "I'm sorry I'm late, sir. I lost track of time, sir." She studied the print on her shirt, then the grain of the stair.

His hand closed around her arm, his vice-like grip impenetrable. She swallowed hard. "Well, I think it is high time you learned your lesson. You do not lose track of time. You do not leave the house. You are to help your mother with everything she does. You are not to _eat_ except for what I allow. You are to do anything your parents tell you to. You are not to say anything out of turn. You are not to talk back. You are not to touch anything that is not yours. You are to keep yourself in your room, make no noise, and pretend that you are not there. Is that understood?"

She nodded mutely, not wanting to say anything for fear that it would be the wrong thing. She did not want him to have any further reason to hit her.

"I said, is that understood? Answer me, girl!" he said, his voice low and his tone dangerous. Hermione cringed away from him.

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir." He bared his teeth in a smile the likes of which she had only seen in her worst nightmares. He dragged her into her room by his grip on her arm and undid his belt. As he raised it, Hermione scrambled away from him. He stepped forward. "No, please, father, I didn't mean to! I understand!"

"I don't think you do. Maybe we should go over it again." And he repeated the harsh creed as he reinforced it, bringing the belt down each time with a terrible crack on the girl's body. Long ago, Hermione had started to have daymares. Every time her door would open, even if it were just the wind, she would see someone come to hit her. She would have nightmares. She'd see her father tying her to her bedposts, then pulling out his belt to hit her unprotected back where she could not back into the corner. She had never thought those awful dreams might become reality.

And yet she felt it. She felt her father heave her from her safe corner and stretch out her arms. She heard him rip her sheets carelessly and tie her arms to the bedposts, then attempt to tie her ankles. She was being stretched. She wasn't tall enough for him to tie her like that, she realized. She heard his grunt of frustration before he decided she wasn't going to move from the position she'd been forced into.

It was agony. He used any way he could to hurt her. The belt buckle raked down her back. His strikes were harder, more vicious than ever before. She longed for Kate's comforting embrace, and the kind words of the other adults. All he was shouting were the words of his terrible creed. She gave up. She deserved it. She didn't deserve anyone's love. She deserved hate, and horror, and all that she was given. She would obey his creed. It was meant to keep her from hurting anyone else with her horrible ways. It was meant to keep her safe from others in the crueler world that awaited her if she were to leave the house.

Her back arced with pain, she couldn't move. She felt his presence—he hadn't left. She felt his strikes—he hadn't forgotten her. She felt his fist—he was more and more frustrated. She wondered if he was drunk. The last thing she wanted was her father to be drunk, beating her for an accidental breach of the unwritten law.

"Daddy, please," she pleaded. "Please, just leave me alone, it won't happen again. I'll never be late again, Daddy! Just leave me be, please."

"Oh, but Hermione Rose, you know you deserve all of this…you are a creature of the devil, meant to sway us to his evil ways. This is the only way you are to learn your place, with the other demons of hell, where you belong. You are a crime against human beings and do not deserve to live. I am being merciful!"

"I know, Daddy, I know. I'm evil. I deserve it," she cried in lost, broken tones. "I don't mean to hurt you, Daddy."

"I do not mean to hurt you, but you are a tool of the devil, and you must be destroyed. I am merciful to let you live, daughter! I do not believe my wife ever carried you—she could not be the fountain of such undiluted evil!" Hermione slumped against her mattress. He didn't believe she was truly his daughter. _I should never have been born,_ she thought, even as he broke her lamp over her head. She saw stars behind her eyes just as she passed out.

BREAK

It was nearly a month later, and the oblivious house-hunters had still had no luck finding a place for the whole of them to live. Meghan looked at Kate. The disheveled, exhausted woman sat listlessly in Remus's lap, the telephone on _her_ lap, as it had been for most of the month. She had only gone to work on those days it was necessary, and she had only gone home to sleep. She hadn't realized how close the two had become in the month they had spent together. But even as she thought that, she realized that, subconsciously, she was already thinking of Kate and Hermione as mother and daughter. _Someone has destined this. No one gains the love of such a child in a month._

Her thoughts turned to another, older child with arresting green eyes. _Oh, Harry, Harry, what does it take to get you to trust us the way Hermione trusts Kate? We love you, Harry. If only you could see that._ She looked over at Sirius, who was giving himself blond hair and blue eyes. It had been decided that Will and Genevieve Asbury and their son Matt and daughter Leigh would accompany John and Theresa Osborne and their daughter Mya in moving to a London duplex. The families would joint-own the home and be very close-knit neighbors. Meghan, happily, had kept her own black hair and instead changed her eyes to brown. She and Sirius would both apply for jobs as Aurors. Kate would go undisguised to work each day, as a disappearance in her field of work would raise a lot of questions. Meghan—as Louise—would move to America, no one being any the wiser. Remus would look around for another bookstore.

"Well, Will, let's move it or lose it, shall we, my love?" she said, slipping a hand into her jeans pocket and pulling out the keys to Kate's car.

"Don't want to be late," he agreed, forcing his face into a smile. "Come on, Genny; let's go before we hit any spectacular London traffic."

"_I_ am driving," she said firmly, leading him to the door. "We'll see you when we get back, John, Theresa. Take care of yourselves while we're gone."

"Bye," Remus called. Kate nodded distractedly. "If we get any calls, we'll let you know the moment you walk in the door," Remus whispered, patting his girlfriend's shoulder.

"You take care of Kate, Rem," Sirius said accusatorily. "If we come back and she's still weepy, you haven't been doing your job." He linked his arm with Meghan's and they strode out the door, closing it behind them and leaving the two to their own miserable fantasies about their surrogate children.

Kate leaned back into him, the short woman's head pressing into the hollow at the base of his neck. He rested his chin in her thick brown hair. They sat there for a long, long while, saying and doing nothing. It wasn't until her shoulders started to heave that he realized she was crying.

"Kate, love, what is it?" he asked her soothingly, stroking her hair to calm her. She sniffled. He repeated his question.

"Hermione, Remus, what's happening to Hermione?" she asked. "I know she's not mine, and I'm not really allowed to be her guardian, but I love her, Remus." She stopped, drawing a deep, wondering breath. "I love her," she admitted again. "God, Remus, I've finally admitted it. It's like she's my daughter, she's my, my cub…It didn't take me quite as long as admitting the truth about you," she thought aloud.

"Kate," he said to the babbling woman. "Kate, I know you're happy as you can be under the circumstances, but moping won't help her." He turned her around and kissed her on the lips. "Kate, love, there's something I needed to ask you. Seeing as we'll be starting a long charade as soon as, er, Will and, umm, Genevieve find a house, I thought now might be a good time."

He deposited her on the couch. She put the phone aside, confused. As soon as Remus got to the floor in front of her, realization dawned on her. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, you silly, silly man!"

"Kate, I haven't even asked you yet. And talk about mood swings, woman. Am I sure I want to put up with this?" he muttered to himself. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and said, "Kate, I know this is really sudden, seeing as we just, for lack of a better term, re-met a little while ago, but I need to ask you. Katherine Theresa Bassett, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she repeated promptly. Her eyes held a light they hadn't in months. "I was waiting for you to ask. Whether or not you had, I was going to have to pretend to be married to you. Those two better find a house soon. It's been a month since we've heard from the kids. Who knows what's happened to them?"

"Kate, please don't get depressed again. Are you bipolar or something?" The phone rang. "That's probably, what is it that we're supposed to call her again? Oh, right, umm, Genny calling about the house."

Kate picked it up excitedly. "Hello?"

"Hey Theresa, it's Genevieve. Good news! Think we've found something. He's interested in selling. He _was_ renting, but the city is starting to get on his nerves. He's willing to sell as soon as we can come up with the money. Will is running over to the bank so he can, well, you know. He did find his account number. You know how scatterbrained he is." Kate took this to mean that she had kept his account key for Gringotts, for some reason, and he was going to go change some magical currency. It seemed a logical explanation.

"Think we'll be able to fit, Meg?" Kate asked, applying the house to the charade. "You and Sirius and Harry and Ash and Remus and Hermione and I?" She was hoping desperately for it to be the one. She'd been waiting _far_ too long for this.

"Oh, we'll definitely be able to fit. Plenty of room. Tell John that you three should get ready to move. We'll take care of telling Matt. He's probably been waiting for us to finally tell him that we picked up a house. And would you be a bit quieter please?" She meant to use false names.

"Well, see you soon, then. Try to get the papers finished up at least by next week. We're waiting for Mya to show up. She hasn't made a peep in quite a while. Neither has your Matt. Leigh's with you." That would suffice to say that Hermione and Harry hadn't called or come to the door. "And I've, well, got news for you when you get home, Gen."

"Well, don't tell me now. There's Will pulling up. I _think_ that's him anyway. Well, see you soon, Theresa. We'll be back in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." She heard the click of Meghan (or Genevieve) hanging up, and put the phone down herself, turning to Remus. "They've found something."

"Well?" he asked. "Did she say how soon they thought it'd be possible to move in?" Kate shrugged. "Ah. You didn't ask, did you?"

"Well, no," Kate said, embarrassed. "We're females, we think about the sentimental stuff, not all the logical things that you men do." She stood up. "I wonder if the Grangers' number is listed?" Then she stopped. "It's probably not. They're dentists. They wouldn't want their patients to be able to look up their number anywhere and call them with oral problems. Damn."

"Calm down. I'm sure that if Mya's in trouble, she'll call."

BREAK

"'Mya" was in trouble, but she wasn't in the position to call anyone. The petite girl was starving. Her thin frame was bruised. There were dark circles around her eyes, and the purple smudges of stress were plainly visible. She hadn't been outside in a month. She'd been beaten nearly every night when something else around the house went sour. Quite frankly, she thought to herself, it was surprising she could still move and walk around. She spent the day in her room, her mornings and evenings assisting her parents with every little thing, and her nights in pain.

It was the middle of the day, and she was sitting on her bed, a book in front of her. She tried to concentrate on the words, but it was all swimming together in her tired head. She knew better than to try the doorknob to get something to eat or possibly a drink. It was locked, and she knew she had a snowball's chance in hell of surviving the summer this way.

She thought about Kate and Remus and Meghan and Sirius. But Kate mostly. Her face kept appearing in Hermione's mind, even though she tried to will the image away. She saw the face crumple, saw the woman who was like a mother to her telling her, begging her desperately not to go back home. She saw her own traitor self giving the adults and Harry a last, longing look before she disappeared out the door. She saw herself round corners, and try to sneak quietly into the house. She saw herself run into her father. And then her thoughts would spin back to Kate. And Remus, if she was honest with herself.

She tried to push the faces away, tried to push away their advice, tried to push away the facts she knew and understood to be true. She tried her hardest, because she didn't want to remember. It was too painful to remember. She had had her chance at a family, she saw now, and she had let fear conquer her. Fear of her parents was stronger than even her wish for a true family, a loving family. She was weak, and she knew it. A tear snaked down her cheek. She shook her head. She could not afford to cry. That would waste precious water.

She wanted to call Kate. She wanted Kate to be there with her, telling her it was all right. She knew Kate, she _trusted_ Kate. She rocked back and forth, cursing her own stupidity.

_And who was she to make demands on Kate's time?_ The voice sounded like her father's. Kate had no ties to her. She did not need to have Hermione as one of her hopeless worries. Hermione did not deserve the attention Kate afforded her. Kate didn't feel affection toward her. She had no claim on the woman. She had no ties to the woman.

The woman probably didn't even remember that she had once spilled her heart out to her, told her everything that few others knew.

Hermione rolled up into the tightest ball she could manage and tried not to cry. Her shoulders quivered with suppressed sobs, and she shoved her face into the fabric of her jeans, contenting herself with failed attempts to bury her sorrow.

Did they remember her? Any of them? Did they think about her? Did they know the bond she still felt to the "babysitter" that had been so much more to her? The person who had shown her light in the dark was not going to always be there for her to fall on. She had no right to fall back on any person. She was just a tool of the devil. She deserved nothing, especially not love.

Hermione's mouth opened. Her tortured throat, tired after nights of restraining her screams, let loose a small cry. Thank goodness no one else was in the house to witness her breakdown, she thought tiredly. She froze as she heard a door open and shut below her, and a voice raised in frustration. "I know, Serena, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't control whatever it is that acts up so often in Hermione. If I could do that, I would know what it was, obviously. Don't you even look at me like that! It's not my fault she's such a freak!"

She had forgotten. It was Wednesday. The day her parents had always come home early. It had slipped her mind. Things seemed to do that more often now. She seemed to have lost her ability to concentrate. Ever since she'd stopped having regular meals, and she'd gotten weaker through starvation.

Her father thundered up the stairs. She could tell it was he. He had the heavier step of the two of them. Her mother's daintier, lighter steps followed his. "I'm telling you, Stephen, you should just beat it out of her. I know you can."

"Seri, I've been trying to do that since she started being unnatural. Haven't you noticed that none of it seems to do anything to it? It's like it's a demon inside her that just gets aggravated by anything I do to inhibit it." Hermione shivered. Demon. That word was used so often when they were talking about her. What if she was?

"I refuse to believe that you can't make one tiny little girl bleed often enough for her freakish nature to go away. You are a fully grown man, and nothing an eight-year-old girl can do should be able to baffle you, Stephen." The argument continued, both of her parents raising their voices so often that Hermione cringed from the sound.

"Go in there and teach her a lesson, then!" Serena demanded. "If you're so sure that you can do this, show me and go do it!" Hermione shook her head, even knowing her mother didn't care, couldn't see, and wouldn't protect her. She was _encouraging_ her father. Hermione shrunk back, trying her hardest to become one with the headboard behind her. No. Not now.

"FINE!" Stephen yelled. "What does it take, woman? What have I been doing every single night?" Hermione heard him stomp toward her door. She heard it fling open. She understood that he walked toward her. Then her mind blanked out what followed. She didn't want to remember. It was the beating of her worst nightmare, fueled by Stephen's anger at his wife's accusations, an afternoon she would never forget.

Somewhere in the course of the pain, her body collapsed along with her awareness. Her eyes felt like there was a tremendous weight behind them. Her body cried out in pain beyond pain. A girl too weak even to protect her head let out a heartrending scream that was held in by the walls of her bleak room.

BREAK

Vernon Dursley's company was not doing well. In fact, it had started to fail, unfortunately. The only outlet for his anger: his nephew.

Yes, Harry Potter had made a perfect target for his frustration. The freakish little boy with the ugly scar on his forehead. The _wizard_ kid, the son of his unnatural sister-in-law and her unnatural husband, he made the perfect punching bag. If he hit hard enough, he would scream. If he hit and hit and hit often enough, he would faint. He was powerful. He was strong.

As soon as he was finished with the boy, he could have the satisfaction of throwing the brat into the cupboard bedroom he was often confined to. He could force him to do his wife's chores, giving _her_ the opportunity to take out frustration on him as well. It was always refreshing to see the boy hobbling away in pain.

And who was to say he _hadn't_ caused the failure of the Grunnings firm? He was, after all, a freak with the power to break the laws of physics.

Feeling fresh outrage, Vernon J. Dursley, director at Grunnings Drill Manufacturing, headed for his own version of a gym—his nephew's cupboard.

Harry Potter trembled with fear as he heard his uncle draw closer. He still hurt from the last night's beating. He didn't remember doing anything to warrant another one. He hoped he hadn't done anything to warrant one. He hoped his uncle wasn't in too bad of a mood.

He remembered being forcibly pulled out of his cupboard. He remembered his uncle yelling in his face that it was his fault the company was failing. He remembered the first few hits. Then, all went black and trailed away with his final scream.

BREAK

A/N: I HATE it when my characters are oblivious—who am I kidding, if they weren't on paper they'd be living, breathing fire, and murdering me. They do _so_ not belong to me. Thank you to all who reviewed, although I would enjoy a slightly argumentative review that could improve my story—encouragement is GREAT though. You've all been TOTALLY AWESOME in your reviews…at least now no one's telling me they wasted their lives on this "piece of shit" ah-hem, but yeah, thanks for being so supportive, when I checked and I had six reviews I almost fell off my chair and woke my sister up! LOL I love all you guys! COOKIES all around. AND THEY ARE NOT BISCUITS! Sorry, but as an American in Aussieland, I have arguments like this.

(Meghan says they're biscuits. "Snore" says my little sister.)

Lotsa love and I should be working on my Rose Avenue Project before I fail,

LysPotter


	9. 8 Come Save Me From This Hell

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, well, I would not be sitting in Rose Avenue bored out of my mind…but I am. Of course, I would never have met my friends, either, cuz I would live in Britain, but yeah…Also, I'm American…so please, don't own, don't sue.

**Previously**: Harry and Hermione arrive home late after telling their secret. Child abuse in detail and oblivious adults.**Warnings: **Serious injuries in detail, violence and plenty of swearing. Self-deprecation—of course—and as always, ANGST ABOUNDS! I hate doing this to my characters...involves mentions of abused teenage Sirius.

**Chapter Eight: Come Save Me From This Hell**, in which the long-anticipated liberation is carried out. (Minor change in this chapter: Remus was meant to play guitar! ) Thanks!)

'Genevieve Asbury' led 'Theresa Osborne' into one side of the London duplex now jointly owned by the 'Asbury' and 'Osborne' families. 'John Osborne' and 'Will Asbury' had already started through the house.

"So, this should be our side, and you three can have the other side. I take it Mya likes it at her babysitter's?" Meghan asked Kate. Kate nodded, looking through the room. "The two sides are similar, nearly identical, but for the fact that the former tenant left a badly-tuned piano in the right-hand room of the other side. Will was immediately ready to load it off on you."

"We'll get it tuned," Kate said matter-of-factly. "I play, as you know, Gen." Meghan nodded. "Still in love with music," she joked.

"Of course I am. I could never give music up. John's never told me if he still plays the guitar he did when we were kids. He's never mentioned it. I've looked around for it, but search me if I know how men organize their private possessions." They shared a quiet laugh. "Spacious," Kate commented a few moments later.

"I know. You and John and Mya will fit no problem. Same with us. Plenty of room for the six of us." They continued to move through the house, chatting lightly.

As soon as they were out of the house and back in Kate's car—the boys would take the 'bus', which meant they were Apparating back to Remus's place.

The anti-scry-charmed car gave them the perfect chance to discuss the kids without speaking in their carefully crafted code. The two women were quietly worrying, and had been doing so for quite a long time.

"God, I hope they call us soon," Meghan said worriedly, watching the road. Her thoughts, the depressing ones they were, were elsewhere. "We haven't heard anything for, what, an entire month now? Who knows what's happening there? I'm really…did you ever see Vernon before everything happening? That man is overweight, he's tall, and he looked pretty damn vicious. He could do anything he wanted to little Harry. That's probably the reason Harry _is_ so little."

"I never saw him. But I could easily picture him from your description. What was that man thinking?" "That man" now constantly referred to Albus Dumbledore. No one in the group was inclined to think very highly of him lately. "And the Grangers—neither of them ever looks like they're the least bit happy. They can smile, sure, but it's never a _happy_ smile."

"If they don't call by tomorrow, I'm going over there. There is no way they are staying at either place another day. They probably don't have a way to contact us." She looked down at the clock. "It's getting late. We should get back to Remus's, see if they call us before you need to go with Remus to get married." Kate smiled, her mood lifted.

"Finally, something to be glad about. It's been doom and gloom for a while now. They need to call us. I'm going to have a heart attack soon. After we get married. At the courthouse." Kate frowned. All the whirlwind preparation was making her sick.

"Someday you'll have your wedding," Meghan consoled. "I'm sorry we have to hurry things along, but we need to stop looking suspicious in Little Whinging." Kate nodded. "Plus, we want to have a little flexible time. We don't want to be checked over when they figure out Harry's out of his 'safe place'. As soon as you've been married (well, you and Remus, you know what I mean) we can move in. If you say you have two quiet kids who don't want to leave the house and don't want to meet strangers, they might believe that."

"How about they don't like moving? They had friends where they lived, and they didn't want to leave the familiar surroundings. That ought to do it."

BREAK

Hermione _couldn't_ leave the familiar surroundings, as much as she wanted to. She came to, even though it was slow and painful.

Her body was on fire; the pain was that bad. What had happened? It was like her mind had put that information away in an inaccessible place. She remembered her father coming into the room. She remembered him yelling at her. She couldn't remember why. Something she hadn't done at all, or at least not intentionally. She dimly remembered him hitting her. She couldn't remember for how long, or with what. She could guess it was about whatever he could find, judging by the way she was feeling.

She tried to lever herself up using her arms, then gasped in worse pain when she disturbed a mass of torn tissue there. Would she make it to her ninth birthday alive? If she survived till then, would she make it to September and the school term? At this rate, she gave herself about two weeks until she kicked it.

She tried using her hands. She managed to push herself into a sitting position. Cocking an ear to listen for her parents, she heard nothing. Her door was wide open.

She tiptoed to the door. The house felt empty. She hurried down the stairs. Still no one. It was dark outside. They should be here. There was a note on the kitchen table though. She read it.

_We've gone to dinner. Don't leave the house. You may have some water._ _Mum and Dad_. She got herself some water and drained the glass in record time, feeling a little guilty as she poured another glass. She saw the phone.

Dare she call Mr. Lupin? Did he even remember she existed? Would he care if she called? "I shouldn't," she croaked to herself.

But her sensible mind took over her body and somehow made it over to the phone. Her timid self picked up the phone and her sensible self dialed the number. Her timid self held the phone to her ear like a lifeline thrown when no hope was left. It was all she had left. It had to work, or she would die.

It had barely rung once before someone on the other end grabbed it up. "Hello?" said a girl's voice. No, it was a woman.

"Hello, this is Hermione Granger?" she said uncertainly. The person on the other line gasped. "I was trying to find Mr. Lupin?"

"What do you need, 'Mya? It's Kate, love. Just talk to me." Hermione's eyes widened. She remembered!

"I need help," Hermione said quietly. "Mum and Dad are out right now. He did it again. I'm not sure I can walk much more."

"We'll be there in a minute," Miss Kate promised. Hermione thanked her in a soft voice, and waited for the click before putting the receiver down.

There was a knock on the door not two minutes later. Hermione made it to the door on shaky legs, and opened it toward her, so as to cover herself up. Her parents had taught her to answer the door that way; so that no one could see any injuries if she was at home alone. Which she was, quite frequently.

Kate and Remus stepped in. She was hiding behind the door now. "Hermione? Are you here, love?" Kate asked. "We're here."

Hermione summoned what was left of her already meager courage and stepped into the open. "I'm here," she said quietly, not realizing the mess she looked in her bloodied ripped shirt that was far too large anyway since she was so thin, having lost so much weight recently. Remus was floored. Kate gasped in horror.

Kate fell to her knees in front of the small girl. She reached out to hug her, but Hermione flinched away horribly, taking two full steps away.

"No, little one, it's Kate. I'm not going to hurt you. I love you. It's wrong for anyone to hurt you. It wasn't right then, it isn't right now. Don't you remember?"

"He didn't think I was his," Hermione whispered. "I'm a devil. Everything's my fault, and he knows, too. He knows about everything."

Remus was looking at Hermione, studying the many lacerations crossing her upper half, her thinness, her black eye. He suppressed an urge to rush to her, knowing that would spook her.

"Hermione, all I want you to do is hold my arm as tight as you can," he said, his voice low and soothing. "We're going to go away from here and not come back. Is there anything you want to take with you?"

Hermione nodded, and went upstairs. She came back down with a worn but well-kept copy of _Madeline_. It was her only book that didn't belong to the lending library she liked to visit when her parents were out or away. Remus understood, and offered his arm. She let her hand rest on it timidly. "Hold on as tight as you can," he told her. She held on obediently.

She was being squeezed through a small tube. There was no air, and it was tiny. Too small for her. Where did it go? Where was she headed?

The tube feeling ended, and she fainted on the floor in the new house's living room.

"I'm going nowhere until she revives and is checked into a hospital," Kate said half an hour later. Remus had just told her, gently but firmly, that they would have to leave to get married and she was steadfastly refusing to move from beside the couch Hermione now rested on. Remus was slowly losing heart.

"Kate, I know you want to be her mother and always stay with her. Meghan and Sirius aren't going until after we get back, and she'll be with them. You trust Meghan, don't you? She'll take care of Hermione when she wakes up, love. Kate, this is our time as much as her time. Maybe a bit less. But she has Meghan. She has Sirius. They can take care of her while we go and do this. I thought this was important to you." Kate looked up at him. He was looking forlornly at her. "I thought you wanted this. Do you?"

"I do," she said with a watery smile. She smoothed Hermione's fevered brow. The comatose child leaned into the touch. "She needs a doctor, Rem. This isn't cutting it. Water isn't going to save her. She's going to burn out."

"Kate. We don't want to call a doctor and have messy questions to answer. We need a medi-witch or –wizard. We swear them to secrecy beforehand and they won't tell anyone. We can tell them what happened to her. Without pinning suspicion on ourselves," Meghan finished. "We two will take care of it. You go get dressed to get married. Something old, something new, something borrowed (take my barrette if you want it, it's on the dresser for you), and something blue. Wish you luck!" Sirius echoed her sentiments. "We'll take care of her," he promised his adopted sister, patting her arm. "I'll Floo a medi-wizard I know immediately."

"Thanks so much, Sirius," Kate said as she hurried up the stairs to put on the outfit she and Meghan had so carefully chosen the week before. She hardly looked twice at the pretty clothes as she hurried into them, brushed her hair, and put Meghan's barrette in her hair. Stepping into her shoes, she and Remus Apparated to the courthouse.

Meghan looked at Hermione, biting her lip. "Sirius, who were you going to call?" she asked. "It better be someone good. We might not be able to save her if they aren't."

"You don't know them. Just call Jason McCarthy and tell him you're married to John Brown. He'll remember me. I went to him for something else once."

"John Brown?"

"Don't ask." His face darkened. Meghan left it alone. Throwing some Floo powder into the fireplace, she called out, "Jason McCarthy!" That was what Sirius had said to do, wasn't it? She couldn't very well ask him now; he was in with Ashley, doing something to make her forget that she'd seen Hermione, in that state, collapse on the floor.

"Hello," said a friendly-looking man in glasses with dark brown hair. "May I help you, miss? Since you obviously know who I am."

"I'm married to John Brown. I've got a severely injured child on the other side of this fire. I would really appreciate it if you didn't say anything about any of this to anyone." She thought on that. "Actually, I would like you to swear you won't say anything about it to anyone." McCarthy looked a little surprised, but he swore.

"Thanks. Can you come through? It's really urgent. This girl is like my daughter in a number of ways and she really needs some help. 16 King Arthur Street."

"Of course, Mrs. Brown." He appeared in the house via the fire not thirty seconds behind her, Healer's bag in hand. As soon as he saw Hermione on the couch, he dropped the bag and rushed over to her. "My God," was all he said. He grabbed hold of her hands, careful not to touch her arms, noting the torn tissue. It was all Meghan could do not to rush up to him demanding if she could be saved. If she was too far gone.

"Mrs. Brown," he said a minute later. "Mrs. Brown, she's really badly hurt, severely starved, and dehydrated. I'll do everything I can to fix it, but I can't guarantee anything at this point. Who is she?" Meghan looked from Hermione to McCarthy. She shook her head, not trusting her voice at this point.

"She's someone from around here. She hangs around with my—my nephew." Those words stuck in her throat. Harry. If Hermione was in this state, what about Harry?

"Who did this to her?" he pressed. Meghan closed her eyes, then opened them again. "It was her parents," she told him, her voice breaking. "Her parents, and my nephew too, his aunt and his uncle. I don't know what's happened to him. He could damn well be dead right now, and I don't know what's happened to him. I don't know what's happened to her."

"Who is responsible for your nephew?" McCarthy asked professionally, although his voice cracked as well.

"My husband and I should be, but he was sent to his maternal aunt and uncle. We are his true guardians and his godparents," she said resolutely. "But we're not supposed to interfere."

"What is this girl's name?"

"Hermione."

He nodded silently, then went back to her. Pulling out his wand, he tapped it lightly against her temple. She glowed blue for a moment, then went limper, if that was possible. Meghan put a hand on his shoulder. "Sleep spell," he said without looking up. "Don't want her waking up until the fever's gone down some more. _Aguamenti_." He directed the spell at a bowl, stirred it with his wand, and dipped a cloth in it, laying it on her dirty, pale forehead. "Mrs. Brown—"

"Please, call me Meghan," she said before she could stop herself. She heard a groan from the other room. She smacked her forehead. _Watch who you give that information to, Meghan Aletha._ "Damn. Continue, please."

"I'll need to set up something to give her water. She needs it, but she won't be able to drink it in the state she's in. I can do that. I'll just need some quiet. If you could—"

"Already gone," she said. She hurried out of the room toward where Sirius and Ashley were. She smiled at Ashley, and pretended there was nothing wrong as they played a little card game.

"So, Dad, how's it been with you and Ashley?" she asked him. Sirius laughed tensely and replied that they were having fun. Ashley launched in on a lengthy seven-year-old explanation. _I can't tell you how glad I am that you're still young, Ashley,_ Meghan thought sadly. _Don't grow up as fast as they have._

She was called back by a knock on the door. She told Ashley she'd be back, and that she was going to need to hear more later. "Umm, Meghan, I've patched her up a bit. You may want to see her. She's still sleeping, though. Her fever's not yet down. I don't think her system can handle an antipyretic right now, although I will give you one in case the fever doesn't culminate soon."

Hermione lay on the couch, arms bandaged, face clean, and most of the cuts closed. The tube in her mouth was probably giving her water. Meghan knelt next to her nephew's best friend and stroked her hand, murmuring comforting words in the sleeping girl's ear. _Don't worry, Kate, we have it under control,_ she thought to her surrogate sister.

"Healer McCarthy, I can't tell you how much this will mean to my friend. She's practically a mother to this girl. She'd be here herself, only she had an appointment to get—"

And McCarthy fell over. Remus grimaced. "Sorry, sir. Just Apparated in…are you the Healer then? Kate, stand up, love, there's someone you just landed on."

Kate stood up and helped McCarthy up. She didn't let go of his hand, just pumped it heartily. "Sir, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for Mya." Meghan was trying to signal her to stop with the charade. "I would have called you myself…"

"I thought the child's name was Hermione?" the medi-wizard asked. Meghan gave Kate her best Look. Kate winced.

"Yeah, sorry Meg. I didn't know. You didn't say anything. I'm sorry, sir. Mya is her nickname. And you are?"

"Jason McCarthy. I got the call from your friend Mrs. Brown. It's absolutely horrific, what those people did to this child. Have you called the child authorities?"

"No, actually, Healer McCarthy, we're in a bit of a tricky position there," Remus told Jason. "If we called the child authorities, one of us at least might well get arrested, if not all." Jason was starting to look confused. "Damn. You don't know."

"I didn't tell him everything," Meghan whispered to him. "Only what he needed to know. I thought you said information was on a need-to-know basis only?"

"I did, I did. Anyway, Healer McCarthy, thank you so much. We were so worried." Remus, a little uncomfortable, looked to either side of the medi-wizard who had graduated from Hogwarts only five years before the rest of them.

McCarthy looked closer at Remus. "Aren't you Remus Lupin?" he asked.

"Er, yeah," Remus said lamely. "I guess." _Damn, Remus, you should have done something. A man hiding someone on the run doesn't give his real name!_

"What the hell are you three standing there doing nothing for?" Sirius's voice came, muffled by the door of the other room. "Thank him for saving the poor little girl who could have been on the couch dying. But now she isn't. Has anyone checked up on Harry, speaking of little children who could be dying?"

"Shut up, Si—love," Meghan said loudly. "We really need your silence right now. Thank you so much, for the fiftieth time." Kate nodded enthusiastically from her position next to Hermione. "If you could just stay here while I look up a phone number and see if I can reach someone. You will have to forget everything I say, because none of it is true," she lied.

Meghan looked up the Dursleys' phone number as quickly as she could. She looked at Kate, worried, as she dialed the number.

Vernon Dursley picked up. "Dursley residence. Vernon speaking," she heard from the other end. She groaned inwardly.

"Pardon me, I'm one of Harry's teachers for school this year, and I need to talk to him about his behavior, please," she lied. It was the only way to get the phone to Harry.

"Is he in trouble then?" the man sounded almost pleased. Meghan quickly assented. "Wait a second, miss." She heard a bellow. "Boy! Come here!"

"Hello?" came her nephew's quiet, hesitant voice.

"Harry! Don't tell your uncle I'm on this end. It's your Aunt Meghan, but don't let him see it because I won't get to speak to you otherwise. I'm going to ask yes or no questions. Answer the questions as truthfully as you can with him standing there, all right, dear? Thanks, Harry," she said without waiting for an answer.

"You can still walk around?"

"Yes."

"Is it something you feel comfortable when doing?"

He hesitated. "No."

"Has he been beating you often?"

Another pause. "Yes."

Meghan looked over at Kate, her eyes sad and she nodded. "Do you think you can hold up?"

"I can—"

"The truth, Harry."

"Well, umm, no then."

"I'll be over in a few minutes with your godfather. If your uncle asks, tell him I told you your appalling behavior can't continue. And I don't really mean it, love. I'll be there soon. Love you."

"Yes, miss." She hung up.

Meghan whirled around. "I need you two to take—can that, Kate's not going to leave Mya alone. Remus, I need you to keep Ashley occupied. I feel so negligent, but I can't take her to see this. I'm going to get Harry, and I'm going to need to take him with me. Promise me Ashley will have no idea what's going on, Rem."

"Promise, Pearl," Remus said intensely. "So sorry, Healer McCarthy, for the confusion. Meg will be right back. I promise you we can do anything you need—"

"And we'll pay you well for all this trouble you're going into. Thank you so much." Meghan grasped his hand, let it go, and rushed into the other room.

"Sirius, love, we're going to see Harry. Let me lead, I visited with Lily once. Grab my arm, and I'll take you." Ashley looked up. "Ash, love, I'm so sorry, but Mum and Dad really have to do this. We'll be back very soon. Equipped, Sirius? Good. Let's get out of here. We need to be back ASAP." Sirius nodded tightly and kissed Ashley on the forehead.

"I love you, kid. We'll be right back." Ashley nodded, confused. _What's up with Mum and Dad today?_ "Bye, Mum, bye, Dad."

"See you, kid."

BREAK

The Blacks materialized in the Dursleys' perfectly kept lawn. It was dark; no one saw them. They walked straight up to the door, and without even bothering to knock, Meghan barged into the house, purpose filling her stride. Vernon Dursley came up into her view. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?"

She whipped out her wand and pointed it right between his eyes. "I'm here for my nephew. I am not leaving without him. And I don't care if you get hurt, you or that pesky family of yours."

"Where is he?" Sirius demanded, his voice low and his eyes cold and dangerous. Vernon saw that the two meant business, and pointed to the cupboard under the stairs. Meghan's blood boiled even as she was opening the cupboard and crawling in, dreading what she might see in the shape of her nephew.

"Harry?" she whispered, reaching into the pitch-black space. There was a gasp, and someone moved away from her as fast and as far as they could. "Harry, it's Aunt Meghan. I'm here to take you to your new home. You'll be safe. Come on, lovey. Sirius is here too. We're going to get you out of here and take you to someone who'll take care of your hurts."

Harry relaxed a little and scooted into the sparse light. Meghan's heart clenched at the sight of the small boy, covered in cuts and bruises. She reached out to gather him in her arms. He saw, and recoiled. "It's Meghan. It's Pearl. I'm here to get you out. Come on," she repeated. "I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you. We're leaving this place forever, and you're not coming back."

Finally she was able to coax him into coming out of the cupboard with her. As she stood up, Harry's thin hand dwarfed in her own, she found herself eye-to-eye with the shaking barrel of a gun, held by Vernon Dursley. "I warn you, you freak. I'll shoot," was all he said. The woman looked from her nephew to his maternal uncle.

"You don't honestly think you can give him something better than I can," she said, her voice shrill in disbelief. "You can't honestly think—"

"I think I'll give him what he deserves. He and the rest of you ruddy freaks. He deserves this, and you do too. Unnaturalness!"

"Put the gun down," came a calm voice from behind Vernon. It was Sirius. Meghan thanked anyone above who was listening for her husband. "I'm armed." Slowly but surely, the beefy man lowered the gun. "Good. _Stupefy._" As soon as the man collapsed, Sirius pointed his wand at the man's head. "_Obliviate._ There. It's what _you_ deserve. Let's get him out of here."

It was a bit of a struggle, but they managed to Side-Along-Apparate the frightened young boy to their current stronghold. As soon as he saw McCarthy and the others in the room, he backed up to the wall. Surreptitiously, Sirius, still standing beside Harry, touched his wand to the boy's temples and murmured a sleep spell. He collapsed. McCarthy didn't look twice at Sirius.

"God, him too," he whispered, gripping the unconscious child's hands. The three adults left the room and joined Remus and Ashley.

"Hey girl, told you we'd be right back," Meghan said, trying to be jaunty. "Harry's just got a little ill traveling. He should be fine soon. Let's get back to our game of cards, shall we, love?"

Remus and Kate went back out into the room. Sirius followed them. McCarthy was similarly taking care of Harry. Kate rushed to Hermione, who still looked pale as death, and was breathing ever so slowly. Sirius knelt to help the Healer, no longer caring if his identity was realized. Just to be caught doing what was right was better than to do the wrong thing.

"So who are you?" McCarthy whispered as soon as Harry was bandaged and half-healed. "I trust you know this boy?"

"I'm his godfather, and his uncle. Will he be okay, Healer? How many broken bones?" Sirius wanted to know it all.

"He had a broken arm, three broken ribs, and just a hairline fracture in his ankle. It would have been painful, but easy enough to heal. He should be fine, physically. The girl too. I'm just not so sure about mentally and emotionally." He looked over at Sirius. "This sort of thing doesn't just leave the physical scars, sir, it—"

"I know," Sirius said shortly, overriding the man. "I know." He took Harry's thin hand in his own. It was barely skin stretched over bone. "Harry, don't do this to me," he whispered. "Tell me you won't leave," he demanded. "I can't lose you too. I lost you once. Don't make me lose you again. Not after everything else." He was crying. He turned his head away from the Healer.

"Harry?" the man asked. "Harry Potter?" Sirius nodded incoherently, looking at the thin, pale face of his godson. "Your godson? Then that would make you…"

"Sirius Black, John Brown, John Smythe, Will Asbury, whatever you want to call me, Healer McCarthy, I'm the same person, I've been in almost the same boat, and I once knew you. Go on and call the Aurors. I'll lose my soul happily for him, and my wife, and my daughter. Even if my innocence is for nothing. I deserve to lose my soul. I deserted my wife and my newborn daughter and my best friend, and my godson. I as good as killed James and Lily, I deserve whatever they throw at me. I deserved what my parents did all those years ago. I—"

A hand closed over his mouth. "Sirius Orion Black, I know you don't get emotional except around troubled children, but remember you don't deserve any of it."

Sirius buried his face in his hands. "I do. I left you there with a two-month-old, to fight a girl, still, probably under Imperius. I lost you, I lost Ashley, I lost Harry."

"You know how to fix it? Stop moping around about everything and just give life a go for a few decades. When you're old and tired—old_er_ and _more_ tired—then give up." Sirius groaned at her joke out of habit. "I know, isn't my wit so sharp? How's he doing?" Sirius looked up at his wife and over to the healer.

"He should be fine, Mrs. Brown—"

"I told you to call me Meghan," she said with a smile. "Since I'm not really Mrs. Brown."

"No. But you're pretty close," Sirius teased. "Only a few shades darker, you know. Black is as close as it gets." Meghan shrugged.

"John Brown? Honestly, how'd you come up with that one?" she demanded. "And you didn't tell me what for."

"Nothing important," Sirius said, evading her questioning eyes. "Nothing at all. Don't worry about it." McCarthy was looking a little skeptical under his shock.

"I seem to remember it being quite important. Wasn't there the issue of several—?" He saw Sirius shaking his head and didn't say any more. Meghan rounded on McCarthy. "What was it, Healer McCarthy?"

"Under the circumstances, call me Jason…I'm pretty sure Mr. Black doesn't want me to tell you—"

"I really don't care. He doesn't seem to know what's good for him, Jason. Tell me anyway. I was going to talk to him anyway." She gave her husband a Look.

Sirius sighed resignedly. "Just spit it out, Jason, otherwise we'll be here all night. My wife is a very determined woman. You learn these things growing up with a person."

"I remember getting a call from a teenage boy, probably around fifteen, with brown hair and gray eyes, and he told me he had got in a fight, and thought maybe he'd broken some bones. I, of course, told him to come through the fire, because it was late and I had no patients or anything. I did a quick examination charm, and sure enough, he had several broken ribs. I patched him up, he thanked me and paid me 'for my trouble' and Flooed back to 12 somewhere. I never forgot it, for some reason." Meghan marched up to Sirius.

"I get so tired of telling you the same thing over and over," she scolded. "I'm not even going to bother saying it this time, because you just ignore me. Why don't we just agree that you're not mending and you don't want my help and maybe we should focus on the kids? All three of them. Including the daughter I'm supposed to be watching." Sirius took a deep breath, nodded, and went with his wife towards the daughter he was trying to get to know. Jason took vital signs on the two children, shook his head, and raked his hair back from his face.

"Damn," he muttered. Jason McCarthy, former top student at St. Mungo's Healer program, hadn't lost a patient yet, and he wasn't going to lose the wizarding world's hope for salvation. "I should have known." Harry and Hermione weren't going to be "fine" soon. Either physically or spiritually. And the four adults had quite a job in front of them, raising two of what would be the probably quietest kids in the world, who probably wouldn't speak up about feeling "a little off" until they were an inch from death. Jason banged his head on the wall. It had been a while since he'd felt stupid. He was overdue. Harry and Hermione weren't just bruised and bloody. They were far too underfed, not to mention sick with fever and weak. With all the magic he'd just run through them still in their veins, there wasn't really any more he could do by way of spells and potions. He'd have to go to Muggle methods if he wanted to save them before his skills were a moot point.

He shuffled through to the bottom of his bag…There it was. He pulled out a small bowl and unscrewed the lid. As soon as he opened it, it filled with clear liquid that smelled of roses. It was an ages-old Muggle antipyretic. Jason knew from experience that it wouldn't be enough, but the rosewater was among the few ideas he had left. He'd have to see if Remus Lupin had a bottle of Muggle Tylenol around. He wiped the children's faces, checked that they were re-hydrating, sat back, and tried not to lose control.

He couldn't do this on his own. Who was he kidding? He wasn't Dilys Derwent. He'd passed his class with honors, but how useful was that around here? A piece of paper wasn't saving these kids…he had to try, but there wasn't much he could do. They were already so far gone. But they needed to survive, or he had a feeling Black would crack.

_Amazing what adrenaline and dying patients can do for a chap,_ he thought to himself wryly. He was in the same house as a dead woman and child and a convicted mass murderer who had escaped from the impregnable Azkaban. And he hadn't even drawn his wand on them; such was his worry for his two patients. Neither of which he had spoken to.

Harry and Hermione stabilized, he took a seat on a chair and concentrated on staying awake, keeping an eye on the two children. They were so pale, he thought. Had they seen sun since two or more weeks ago? Somehow he doubted it. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what the kids would be doing if their lives hadn't been so unfortunate. He could see Harry Potter, the world's beloved savior, being a normal child, with two parents, probably a couple of siblings, and quite a few adoptive aunts and uncles, not to mention his real ones. He imagined Hermione, red-cheeked, laughing, racing her best friend to the playground, letting her win out of good sport. But for some reason, the images in his mind couldn't be reconciled with the children before him, inert, pale as death. He pushed his limp hair back from his face. Why him, of all people? Why was he here at this very moment in time, witnessing something few others were privy to?

He looked up as a young girl entered the room. She had shoulder-length curly black hair, bright gray eyes, quirkiness in her manner, and a somber expression on her face.

"Harry and Hermione are sick, aren't they?" the girl asked him. "They're very, very sick. I can tell. Why are they sick, mister?"

"They're sick because they've had a very rough time of it, little girl," Jason said tiredly. And then he looked closer at her. "What's your name, little girl?" he asked.

"I'm Leigh. Leigh Asbury. I think my parents were talking to you earlier?" she asked. _Did she say Asbury? I don't remember…oh, they've trained her well. She's the Blacks' little girl,_ he realized. _What was her name? I know it was all over the papers…I should really know who she is._ "Hello, Ashley Black," he said with a small smile. She stamped her foot.

"Why do I always have trouble lying?" she muttered to herself. "I know I'm not convincing. Any pointers before I go undercover, mister?"

"Jason McCarthy, Ashley, or Leigh, I suppose. Your parents _were_ talking to me earlier. It's nice to meet you. Harry and Hermione had a pretty bad time of it. When they wake up, you're going to need to be really nice to them, all right? They won't be too talkative for a while. Tell you what, Ashley. I'm making it your special job to make sure you get them what they need, even if they won't tell you what it is. They'll be sleeping a lot, so you're going to need to be quiet. They might have a little trouble talking to you. You need to be really patient. Can you do that?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Good. So you're my special helper. Right now I want you to go get your mum and dad and their friends for me. I need to talk to them for a few minutes. While I do, you can keep an eye on Harry and Hermione, okay, sport?"

Ashley rushed to the other room to retrieve the four. "Mum, Dad, Aunt Kate, Uncle Remus, I think Mr. McCarthy wants to talk to you about Harry and Mya." The nickname had been quickly been adopted by the small girl, and there would be no confusion when it came to calling her that all the time.

"Coming, Ashley," Sirius said, a very solemn look on his face. "How did you get out there, I wonder?" She pointed to the door. "Next time listen when I tell you to stay in the room."

"Sorry, Dad," she muttered. "I was worried for Harry and Mya, though," she said, impetuous. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I needed to see what was wrong." Sirius put a hand around her shoulders, told her not to go off like that again but it was all right for now, and pulled Meghan out into the living room.

"What is it, Jason?" Sirius cut to the chase. Seeing Harry lying there, prone, was not doing wonders for his nerves or his blood pressure.

"They're stabilizing. For right now, they're going to have to survive lying there. I can't give them any more magic or potions. There's too much in their blood already. We'll have to let the fever run its natural course. It may lead to delirium, but you should be able to deal with that. If it so happens that they wake up before tomorrow at about nine just be careful around them. That's when I'll be coming to check back on them. I shouldn't have anything then, seeing as it's Sunday tomorrow and I'm not on call. I'll be here, probably just before nine o'clock. All of you need to get some sleep too. Ashley, take care of yourself or you can't take care of your cousin and your friend, all right, sweetheart? I'm really sorry to be leaving like this, but it's getting late, and I will be back in fourteen hours. Their supply of water won't need to be refilled, it's endless. Just make sure they don't fall or anything." He gathered up his bag, looked at his patients, swallowed, and turned back to the five people watching him with awed (Ashley) and thankful expressions. Kate Bassett smiled tiredly, her gaze skipping back to her surrogate daughter.

"Thank you so much," she said again. "I was so worried. And then we had to go…I just was so confused. And I'm sorry we pinned so much on you at such a late hour."

"Don't worry about it, umm," he fumbled.

"Kate. Kate Lupin." She smiled at Remus. It felt good to finally say it.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said rather uncomfortably. They nodded.

BREAK

A/N: SO MANY REVIEWS JOY AND HAPPINESS JOY!! Forty one!!!!! God I am over the moon! The most I've ever had on a story before this is in the teens and now I'm in the FORTIES…back to the story and yeah.

Sorry it's taken me a week or so to update. I apologize, because I'm really lazy (ahem, cough, cough, so lazy it's not funny, cough, cough) and I could have done it last night but I was reading these awesome stories, I got to them somehow from aizi's profile. I am addicted to fanfiction now! It's actually very sad…but thanks for all your reviews, and Madm05, I know I'm not very inventive in word choice…I'm working on it though. Thanks for the feedback everyone!

Make sure you look both ways before crossing the street, don't take drugs, and always feed fish peanut butter! Those are my words of wisdom for today!

Meghan thinks I'm crazy. "Completely off her rocker". I happen to agree, proudly, in fact. Pudge and I get along very well, although he's suggesting almond butter next week…

This may be the last chapter for a little while cuz I have to write the next one. Sorry, but I've been writing other stories that I'll probably never post. Of course, I'll try to get the chapter out as soon as possible. Trust me.

Lotsa love and WHOOHOO I finished my Rose Avenue project,

LysPotter


	10. 9 Getting Better All the Time

**Disclaimer: **As you've probably guessed by now, I don't own Harry Potter. I do own Meghan, Kate, and Ashley—more like they own me, but whatever—but I have no claims on Harry Potter…wish I did…Man that would be SO cool…anyway, to end my ramblings, don't sue me cuz I spent all my money shopping at the QVM this weekend! By the way, don't own the chapter title either, it's lyrics from a Beatles' song! Enjoy!

**Previously: **The Rescue!!! Meghan calls a Healer, who agrees to keep their secret because of the condition of Harry and Hermione. When last we heard, he had left, to come back the next day.

**Chapter Orientation: **It is a week later, and Harry and Hermione have yet to wake up. Kate and Sirius have been practically immovable from Hermione and Harry's sides, respectively, and Meghan and Remus are keeping the house together. Ashley is trying to spread cheer. You are now up-to-date.

**Warnings: **Some distasteful language, but other than that, I think it's pretty clean…umm, seven-year-old enthusiasm?

**Chapter Nine: Getting Better All the Time**, in which Harry and Hermione recuperate, Remus fixes a piano, and Ashley tends to the "family's" psyche.

Hermione was lost. Very lost. It was like she was wandering through an unknown gray foggy maze with no light to guide her and no friend to help. Things kept nipping out and biting her, or scratching her. She hurried along, running, in fact. It didn't help. They moved as fast as she did. Yet she felt herself getting stronger…

Harry suddenly appeared beside her, a determined look on his pale face. The scar stood out a mile on his white skin. It was red, inflamed.

"Keep fighting, Mya, keep fighting," he murmured. "We can beat this." Invisible beings bit and scratched at him, leaving red marks on all visible skin.

She closed her eyes for a moment. That was all it took for Harry to disappear and Kate to reappear. "Oh, Mya. What did you do to yourself? It's all your fault."

She tried to speak up, to tell her that she was sorry, that she hadn't done it to herself, but Kate disappeared, a cold look on her face. She swallowed heavily.

Remus appeared. "We're so disappointed in you, Hermione Rose. I think you need to go live with your parents some more," he said matter-of-factly. Hermione tried and failed to make any sound, say anything to protect herself. "I could never care for an idiot like you. And Meghan and Sirius will never care for Harry. Honestly, you two children are worthless!"

Hermione sat down on a gray-fog chair and started to cry, even as the cold and biting objects continued to nip more aggressively at her. She didn't belong. She drew her legs up to her chest and buried her face in them. She was unlovable, and her parents knew that better than she did. _I only ever wanted a family._ And it seemed to her that anything she wanted was immediately taken from her. Stability was yanked out from under her as a voice called her. "Mya. Mione. Hermione, love, wake up. It's Kate…can you wake up, love?"

She opened her eyes rather reluctantly…It had all been a dream. Kate was right here next to her. She looked into the kindly woman's brown eyes. Her tanned face was lined with worry, and her eyes were tired. Standing next to her was Remus, and next to him an unknown, with dark brown hair and glasses. He looked like a doctor…why was he here?

"Mya, love, are you alright?" Kate asked, laying her hand tenderly on the girl's forehead. "It was just a nightmare. Everything's okay."

"What?" she asked, her voice raspy and quiet. "Sorry," she said immediately.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. You've been through a lot. You've been asleep for a whole week. Healer McCarthy said you'd be waking up soon…How do you feel, dear?" she asked, concerned.

"Fine," Hermione said automatically.

"How you really feel, Hermione," Sirius said from behind her. "Don't lie."

Hermione took inventory. "A lot better," she said honestly. Then she realized what had happened and blanched. "Sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Kate asked, trying to smile at the tiny little girl in front of her. It was so hard to see her so helpless. Hermione floundered. How to answer?

"Sorry—for—for bothering you," she decided. She looked across the floor. There, on another couch, was Harry. He was pale, but his face was calm with sleep. The unknown man came up to her and moved to grab her wrist. She yanked it away from him. He bit his lip and looked at Kate. "Use a spell," she muttered at him. He flushed and pulled out a short stick.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Hermione, relax, it's just magic, remember, like you've seen us do before?" Remus reminded her gently. She gulped and nodded. Her memories were still a little rocky, and her mind was blurred, but what Remus said made sense. The man cast a spell that made numbers appear in the air. Apparently the man was satisfied with the results, because his face softened.

"You're healing well, Hermione," he told her softly. "You should be better soon." He murmured something to Kate that Hermione couldn't make out. Kate smiled gratefully, and looked back at Hermione.

"Is there anything you need, sweetheart? A drink? Are you hungry? Cold?" she asked concernedly. Hermione bit her lip. "No, Miss Kate," she said quietly, relieved to find that it was true, and wondering why.

"You should have a drink all the same," said the man—Kate had called him Healer McCarthy. "You'll be needing a lot of fluids for a while, and you need to eat more. I'll give you some lists of appropriate foods, Mrs. Lupin."

"Thanks, Healer—call me Kate. I'll get you a glass of water, okay, Mya?" Hermione nodded slightly, her eyes trained on the blanket pulled up to her chin.

Kate disappeared, and Meghan pulled the Healer to the side. Remus watched Hermione with sad eyes.

Hermione played with the edge of the blanket. What was she doing here? Moreover, how long could she stay before someone sent her back to her family? She didn't want to ask; she was afraid of the answer. She shivered slightly. Immediately Remus was tucking the blanket more tightly around her. "If you're cold, Hermione, just say so," he said softly to the apprehensive girl, who tracked him with her eyes as he came close to her. He unfolded another blanket from somewhere and tucked it around her as well. Warm and safe, Hermione felt her eyelids start to droop. She fought to keep them open.

"Here we are, Mya," Kate's voice reached her ears as the dark-haired woman once again knelt beside her, holding a cup of water to her lips. Hermione's cheeks flushed as she realized that Kate was treating her a little like a baby, but didn't have the energy to hold the cup herself. Kate laughed quietly and put a hand on Hermione's forehead, causing the little girl to flinch and Kate to draw her hand away immediately.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Kate assured the silent child.

"'m sorry," Hermione mumbled.

"Don't be. It's entirely understandable." _Don't apologize for everything! Can't you see that pushing us away won't help you?_ Hermione finished sipping the water. Her eyelids started to droop and her mind fogged. "That's it, love, go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up, I promise." Hermione fell away into the land of nod and Kate sighed with relief.

"How's she doing?" Remus asked the Healer, who turned to the other man. "I mean, is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine. She'll need a lot of rest and TLC, but she should be okay in a few weeks' time. Physically." He scratched his ear. "I don't know about emotionally. I don't think she'll ever be fully all right." Remus nodded, clearing his throat uncomfortably and sighing.

"We expected that," he managed to say. "I don't know if I've mentioned how glad I am that you came to help us. It—I don't know what we would have done, otherwise." He held out a hand. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call us." Jason shook it once and turned to check on his other patient.

Sirius looked up at him with lost eyes. His attention focused on the small black-haired boy next to his daughter, he raked his hand through his hair and let the book he had been trying to concentrate on fall to the floor. "Mya's okay then?" he muttered, his eyes still trained on Harry. Remus assented, and Sirius let out a huge sigh. "Thank bloody God." He put a hand to Harry's forehead. Even in his sleep the boy tensed a little, and Sirius shook his head. "Bastards," he murmured, referring to the Dursleys (and the Grangers). Ashley, sitting next to him, looked up at her father, eyes wide. "You didn't hear that," he told her.

She didn't even pay attention, standing up from her position as guard next to Harry and rushing over to Hermione. "Mya's going to be fine, isn't she, Mr. Jason?" she said, confident. Jason smiled and agreed with her. He looked at his watch surreptitiously. Meghan caught him. "Jason, I think we can take it from here. I've dealt with sick children and an abused child before." He took on a questioning look, but didn't voice any of his thoughts. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer. "We're all very glad for your help, and you probably need to be getting back to your office."

"I can stay, of course—"

"Don't. You'll wear yourself out. Don't worry about us." She smiled at him. "I'll be along later to discuss the issue of compensation." She held up a hand to forestall the protest on the tip of his tongue. "Yes, I know you're firmly involved in this and probably wish to see your other patient wake up. But these kids are extremely volatile, and it probably isn't a good idea for them to see a total stranger immediately upon waking." She shooed him to the Floo and made sure he left.

"Anyone for a second breakfast?" she asked. "Sirius and Kate need to eat." Remus got up to help. "Ashley, you stay and make sure Harry doesn't try to run off."

"Yes, Mum," Ashley said softly. She was still watching Mya with a worried look on her face, occasionally glancing at Kate. Meghan left the room, and they could hear noise in the kitchen a few seconds later. Kate sighed heavily and put an arm around Ashley's shoulders.

"How are you doing, Ash?" she asked the small girl. The perceptive child snaked her arms around Kate's neck and pulled her into a hug. "I'm fine, Aunt Katie," she whispered in the woman's ear. "Mya is going to be fine too. And so is Harry, and we're all going to live together forever and ever and ever. We're a family!"

"Of course, sweetie," Kate replied, her voice choked. "Of course we are." She squeezed Ashley tighter. "We're a family." A few tears dripped on to the black head of hair as Kate thanked whatever deity was listening for the safety and love of her family.

BREAK

Meghan put a plate of food on Sirius's knees. "Eat, you stubborn man," she ordered. He looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "You have hardly moved from that seat for a week. I'm not going to let you kill yourself. You are going to eat all of that, and then I will watch Harry while you go take a nap."

Sirius began to protest. "Meghan, he's my godson, he's hurt! He needs me! You can't—"

"Sirius." Her voice was warning. "He's my godson as well. I care about him too. And he's not going to have you if you keep neglecting yourself like this. Part of taking care of someone is making sure that you're still able to do so! Now eat!"

Ashley handed her father a fork and put a cup of herbal tea next to his foot. "Mum says to drink that, too," she informed him. Sirius surrendered in the face of all the attention and let himself be bullied into finishing the very full plate of eggs, toast, and fruit.

Remus was having a similar fight with Kate. "Remus, she just woke up! What if she wakes up again and nobody's here? She'll think we abandoned her!"

"No, she won't, Kate, I told you that I'm going to stay here and watch her."

"Remus…" Kate pleaded. Remus shook his head and Meghan handed him a plate of food, which he shoved into Kate's hands. "Eat, please," he asked her. "Or you won't be able to, because you'll collapse."

Kate reluctantly obeyed, polishing off the food in record time. Some color had returned to her face, but she was still wan. "No, Kate," Remus said when she went back to holding Hermione's hand. "Go take a nap, please. You need sleep. You're going to get sick if you don't, and then where will we be? I'll spell you for a while."

She finally gave in and let him take over for her. She headed for their room, and collapsed on the bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

No one saw Ashley sneak into her aunt's room and tuck her favorite teddy bear under Kate's arm. Ashley patted her head with a smile and whispered, "Sleep good, Kate." A slight smile crept onto Kate's sleeping face, and Ashley left the room to go sit by her cousin some more, talking to her mother in hushed tones for the next hour as they watched the tired young boy, sleeping deeply and peacefully as his body slowly mended.

Ashley fidgeted. There was something she had wanted to ask her mother, but she wasn't sure how her recently tearful mother would react. It was weighing on her mind, and she really wanted to know. "Mum," Ashley began, "why did Aunt Lily's sister let Harry get hurt?" Her mother stiffened momentarily, and Ashley apologized.

"No, no, don't apologize," Meghan waved if off. Ashley took a deep breath. Meghan shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around Ashley, pulling her into her lap. Ashley didn't protest. Her mother was in a mood, a cuddling mood, and Ashley knew better than to push her mother away when she was in one of those moods.

"You know Aunt Lily was Muggleborn, right?" Meghan asked. When Ashley nodded, Meghan continued, "Well, Lily's sister Petunia was a Muggle through and through, and so is her husband, Harry's uncle Vernon. Lily's parents spoiled her, you might say, favored her over Petunia. It happens sometimes, with Muggleborns, because their parents idolize the magical child, since they seem so untouchable. Petunia felt shoved aside, I suppose, and started to hate anything abnormal to her, or what she called 'freakish', I think. When she and Vernon got engaged, she told him about Lily, as she was supposed to under wizarding law. Vernon, of course, seems to hate 'freaks' as much as Petunia." Ashley looked up at her mother, wanting her to get to the point of the story. "I know, but this will be important.

"Now, when Aunt Lily and Uncle James died, Dumbledore sent Harry to live with Petunia and Vernon because of a blood protection spell that linked to Lily—since Lily died so that Harry could live, the presence of her blood could protect him. Or at least, that's what Dumbledore thought. So Harry went to live with Petunia and Vernon.

"But Dumbledore forgot, or didn't know, that Petunia and Vernon really disliked wizards and witches. Maybe he thought that since they were related, Petunia and Vernon would tolerate Harry. And maybe he thought that since Petunia was a stay-at-home mother, so she had plenty of time to take care of children. I couldn't tell you. But I think Petunia and Vernon saw him as the 'freak' that Lily and James 'couldn't' take care of, and they felt really 'put upon' to have to raise this kid when they already had one of their own—"

"But Mum, wouldn't you have taken Harry if Dumbledore hadn't put him with the Dursleys? You always say so. And you had me, right? And Daddy wasn't there, so you would have been the only one taking care of the two of us, right?" Ashley was confused. If her mother had wanted to take Harry in when it was just her and two children, why was it different for the Dursleys when there were two of them? And Mum had a job, so wouldn't that make it even more difficult for her? Wouldn't she have a better reason to not want to raise Harry with Ashley than the Dursleys with Dudley?

"I know, Ashley, and I would have gladly taken Harry in and taken care of the two of you together, and even I, with a job, could take better care of Harry than those two. Harry would have at least known that he was loved. But the Dursleys saw him as a 'freak'. They probably drilled that in to him before he was able to talk. And that's why Harry's aunt Petunia let Harry get hurt. She probably made Harry hurt sometimes. It was Vernon and Dudley and Petunia, all three of them, that made Harry the person you know."

"But what did Harry ever do to them?" she wanted to know. "I think Harry's really nice, and he never yells at anybody or slams doors or does any of the things I get in trouble for."

"I know, baby, and he doesn't do anything like that at his aunt and uncle's home, either. But they don't like him because of who he is, not what he's done. Like if I didn't like you for having gray eyes. They don't like him because he has magic."

Ashley became indignant. "Well, he can't do anything about that! Either he's got magic or he doesn't, you know that!"

"Yes, I do, you and I both do. But the Dursleys don't. They think Harry can just stop being magic and he's being defiant by not doing what they're ordering him to." Meghan's tears didn't affect her speech as they slid silently onto her daughter's long black hair.

"Well, someone should have told them," Ashley said petulantly. "That way they couldn't punish Harry for something he hasn't got control of, 'cause that's not fair." Meghan just laughed, voice strangled, and buried her face in her daughter's hair.

She didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that a lot of things weren't fair, and things like this happened all the time. Ashley didn't need to hear it. Instead, Meghan agreed with her daughter and said maybe she should be the Minister of Magic, which made the little girl laugh delightedly.

Sirius walked in from the kitchen. "I ate lunch, okay? Can I watch Harry now?" he asked desperately. Meghan stood, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave him her best glare. To her delight, he withered slightly under her disapproving eyes. Ashley walked up to him, arms akimbo, and told him matter-of-factly, "You need to take a nap so you don't get overtired."

Meghan recognized the words she used to use on a four-year-old Ashley. The little girl had found "overtired" such an intimidating word—what happened if you were overtired?—that she had taken her nap without complaint.

No such ploy worked with her husband. He eventually glared right back at her. "Meghan, please," he asked her, pleading puppy eyes on full force. Her eyes hooded, she stared him down. A few minutes later, he looked away, rolling his eyes. "What's the problem?" he asked tiredly. She drew herself up to her full height to deliver her response.

"The problem, _sir_, is the fact that you have hardly slept at all for a week! You're going to wear yourself to the bone if you do not get some sleep, no matter whether or not you eat! It is extremely important that you take care of yourself." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Sirius, love," she said quietly, "can you try to rest, for me, please?"

He looked into her understanding but determined eyes and sighed. "You promise you'll wake me up if something changes?" he asked. She grinned widely and nodded. Ashley attached herself to his other hand and said proudly, "I'll come get you if she forgets, Daddy." Sirius smiled at her, exhausted now that he thought about it, and brought her hand to his lips playfully. "Thank you, Ashley."

Meghan and Ashley escorted him to the elder Blacks' bedroom. Sirius fell onto the bed in some sort of stupor. Ashley giggled and helped her mother tuck him in. Meghan left the room directly after, but Ashley hesitated, putting a hand on her father's shoulder and saying softly to the half-asleep man, "Thanks for finding all of us, Dad." She hugged him awkwardly and turned to leave the room. She stopped at the door and whispered, almost silently, "I love you," to the man in the bed behind her.

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as she shut the door, creeping away on cat-feet so she wouldn't wake him. And so, for the first time in a long time, Sirius Black slept with a smile on his face.

BREAK

Remus and Ashley sat in the kitchen, a checkers board in front of them. Meghan had gone out to get groceries, and Remus had cast an alarm spell to alert the two of them if either of the children in the other room awoke. Remus moved a red plastic circle, not really concentrating on the game.

Ashley was taking the whole ordeal quite well. It hadn't fazed her for a moment when she saw her father suddenly break down crying over the two children as they slept. She'd simply patted his back and helped Meghan slowly calm him down. She brought the tissues and left her mother some peace when Meghan finally cracked on the third day of their coma. She'd made sure Kate was never alone when she watched Hermione and Harry. And her childish ways and silly statements brought fleeting smiles to the faces of the agonized adults.

She was a happy little girl, and didn't seem to give that up even when she acted more mature than some of the adults Remus knew. She seemed to know what to say to calm people down and what to say to make them cheer up. She'd worked out that the full moon was due in about a week and a half and had made a drawing of her "Uncle Moony" as a werewolf, watching a full moon with "Aunt Katie" next to him, her hand buried in his neck fur.

He had thanked her and put the drawing up on the kitchen wall. Everyone had noticed at some point, and had complimented Ashley. Kate sometimes stood there, looking at it, with a smile on her face, when she thought no one was looking. Remus didn't say anything, taking comfort in the unconscious reassurance that someone loved him despite his "curse".

Sometimes, when no one else was watching the children—which only happened late at night, when Ashley was meant to be asleep—she would carry her flashlight into the family room and tell Harry and Hermione exciting stories about what they'd do when they were better. Remus had walked in on a few when heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. He'd wait until she reached the climax, then go up to her and gently lead her back to bed, promising that she could tell her stories in the morning.

But Ashley never did tell her stories where someone else could hear them. Remus smiled. He knew what it meant to be shy. Absently, he moved another red chip, "jumping" a black one in the process. Ashley groaned, captured a red chip in return, and got up to pour herself a glass of water.

"Want some, Moony?" she asked, holding up a glass. Remus drew himself out of his reverie and nodded. She poured him a glass with ease. Remus accepted it with a quiet thank you and moved a red piece.

"Why can you always beat me at checkers, Uncle Moony?" she asked innocently. Remus swallowed and looked kindly at his honorary niece.

"I suppose it's because you think with your heart, and I think with my head," he told her. "You'll make a useless move to save a piece and make sure it won't hurt another, while I'm not above sacrificing a piece to win one or two of yours. See, you want to protect your pieces, but I really just want to get rid of yours. And my game strategy seems to outrun yours, although that doesn't make the way I think better than the way you do. Strengths and weaknesses, Ashley."

Ashley was watching him with a wondering look on her face. "Are you a teacher, Moony?" she asked bluntly.

Remus laughed. "No, cub, I'm not a teacher. I'm just a guy who says deep things when he's tired sometimes." Ashley giggled and studied the board for a few minutes before she moved her piece. Remus examined her move and compared it with what he could do to out-maneuver her. Not seeing any way to trap her pieces, and not particularly worried about her managing to take one of his, he moved one red chip closer to the black end of the board.

As soon as he did so, a black chip, propelled by small fingers, "jumped" the red piece he had just set down, landing in a place isolated from any other red chips. Remus drew back, surprised. Ashley looked up at him and smirked.

"Maybe I can think with my head," she drawled.

BREAK

Meghan stepped into the house, carrying a few bags. She strode to the kitchen and unloaded the bags into the cupboards and the refrigerator. Ashley got out of her chair, where Remus had been teaching her to play chess, and gave her mother a hello hug.

"Mum, you'll never guess what I did!" she said excitedly. "I played checkers with Moony while you were gone, and I won our last game, really I did!"

Meghan laughed and kissed Ashley's forehead. "Good job, sweetheart! Even I have trouble, beating Remus at checkers. I think a lot of people do. He's quite good at strategic thinking games. Oh, is he teaching you chess?"

"Yes, see, he said since I was getting so good at checkers, I needed something new to do, and he said he knew I would be good enough to beat Dad soon."

Meghan raised an eyebrow at Remus. "You know Sirius hates it when someone brings up his almost complete inability to play chess."

"Yes, well, it's not my fault that he never quite grasped the concept of planning a strategy in a board game." Remus cocked his head. "You of all people should realize he is prone to rushing in to things, shouldn't you?" Meghan flushed and put the celery in the vegetable drawer in the fridge. "Just as I thought. Now, Ashley, why don't we go see if we can fix that old piano? I know Kate wanted it fixed, and I checked out a book from the nearest magical library on music and magic. I think it has some spells in it for tuning pianos." Ashley's eyes widened and shone bright with excitement.

"Do you play the piano?" she asked excitedly.

"A little. Kate plays better than I do, though. Maybe when she wakes up she'll play you something." Ashley whooped quietly and hugged her Uncle Moony. He laughed and grabbed the book from its place of honor on the kitchen counter as they left the room.

Ashley grinned when she saw the old upright in the corner. "I always wanted to learn, but Mum never had time to teach me, and she said she didn't play too well, anyway, just enough to scrape by on." She looked at her uncle in confusion. "Why did she have to scrape by?"

"It's a pureblood thing," he dismissed it. "They have to know how to play a musical instrument. Your dad played the…well, I don't remember, which suggests that he won't either." Remus smiled. "Can you look up piano tuning in the index for me?"

Ashley scrambled to do as asked. When she found the page, she handed to Remus and settled on the chair Kate had moved in there. She watched him practice the spell and smirked when he snapped his fingers, unable to get the pronunciation quite right.

Eventually, he was able to speak the words and Ashley clapped her hands when a jet of blue light streaked into the piano.

Remus pressed a few keys to check, and was pleased with the resulting sound. "There we go. Now, you want me to teach you something really quick?"

Ashley nodded excitedly, and Remus spent the next few minutes showing her how to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb", explaining the note names.

"ABCDEFG," she said, pointing them out on the keyboard. "I know, Moony. Mum did teach me a _little_ bit. She said I had to know about music before I could play the piano. I still haven't learned how to read music, but maybe you and Aunt Katie could teach me." Remus smiled and agreed. Ashley softly plunked out the simplistic tune of the children's nursery rhyme, and Remus gave her a one-armed hug, ruffling her hair.

"Moony!"

BREAK

Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Kate had been sleeping peacefully for almost three hours now. Meghan was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper, and Remus and Ashley had moved to the living room to play chess, to be closer to the two children. Every once in a while, after her turn, Ashley would go peer at her cousin and her friend to make sure they were still okay. Remus would smile slightly and move his piece.

Hermione had shifted slightly in her sleep and let out a muffled cry once, but Ashley was right there whispering a quiet story in her ear. She had almost woken the two up when she tripped over a lamp cord coming back to the board, but Hermione just rolled over and Harry made a quiet noise of discomfort. Remus had glared slightly at Ashley, who had given him a sheepish look and shrugged. He had beckoned her back to the board and she had carefully picked her way there, not wanting to step on anything else.

A few times, there was a close call with them waking up the children when Ashley exclaimed over a move Remus had just made, but Remus gently reminded her where they were, and Ashley the ever-enthusiastic child had quieted with a guilty look on her face. Seven-year-olds weren't good at extended periods of silence, and Ashley was no exception.

Remus was just about to checkmate his niece when a cry echoed through the house. They heard Meghan drop her paper and stand.

When Ashley's mother strode out of the kitchen toward the bedroom Sirius was in, Remus and Ashley followed.

Sirius was thrashing on the bed, calling out nonsense words. Meghan's face sobered from its worried expression, and she traded glances with Remus, who obviously understood the nightmare. Remus nodded and looked at Ashley.

"Ash, could you go play for a little while?" Meghan put a hand to the side of Sirius's face. Ashley watched as her father relaxed and fell back into a deep sleep at the touch. Meghan took a deep breath and sighed. "He should be okay now, love."

Ashley wrapped her arms around her mother. "What happened?" she asked. Meghan shook her head. "I'll tell you when you're older, sweetheart."

"Now's not the time, or the place," Remus agreed.

Ashley looked worriedly from her mother to her uncle and ran to get another stuffed animal for her father. She tucked it under his arm. "Stay asleep, Dad, and have good dreams," she ordered him quietly. "You need to be better before you go watch Harry and Mya, Mum said so." Sirius shifted slightly, his worried forehead relaxing even more as he slept on.

Meghan took her by the hand and led her out of the room. "Why don't we find your coloring books? I daresay you could use something to do."

"I'll be in the music room if anyone asks," Remus murmured. He made himself scarce as well, leaving the children and adults to their peaceful sleep.

BREAK

When Kate awoke, she heard the faint sound of plunking notes on a piano. She got up groggily and followed the tune that whoever was at the piano was now playing.

She entered the music room to find Remus playing softly at the piano. She came up behind him and put her head on his shoulder. He stopped playing and looked up. "How'd you get it tuned up?" she asked him quietly. He pointed to a book on top of the piano, something about musical spells. "So that's how wizards have such well-tuned pianos," she observed. He scooted over on the bench and patted the seat next to him. She slid into place next to him and placed her hands over the keys.

"Gods," she smiled weakly, "it's been ages since I've played. Before Mya, practically. What should I play?" she asked him.

He didn't answer immediately. She re-angled her head to see him better. He looked at her, still pensive. "Play something you love," he said simply. Kate looked at him, confused, before watching her hands—almost of their own accord—move into familiar positions, and begin to play a familiar song. Remus smiled reminiscently.

After playing through an extended introduction, she began to sing, her mezzo-soprano voice warm and mellow. The song spoke of things she loved, her favorite things. Remus's soft voice joined in on the second verse, adding a harmony part that the two had sung often in post-Hogwarts years and gatherings with friends. Kate's voice soared up to reach the climax note, then returning to a normal volume for the last few lines. A high, childish voice and a full, low woman's voice joined in on the last two lines.

Remus turned around and smiled at Meghan and Ashley. Ashley clapped her hands. "Can you play some more, Aunt Katie?" she asked excitedly.

Kate smiled at the nickname. "Of course," she said with a laugh, and began to gently play a song that everyone there knew, a favorite of the Marauder group. Meghan started the song strongly, her alto voice warm as she sang of green trees and blue skies. Remus, Ashley, and Kate joined in at the chorus, speaking of a wonderful world.

And that was the scene Sirius walked in on half an hour later, Kate playing the piano and all four of them singing along cheerfully. He smiled blearily, taking a seat.

Ashley rushed over him and sat next to him. "Aunt Katie can play the piano really good, Daddy, and she says she'll teach me!"

"Will she now?" he laughed softly. Ashley nodded excitedly, grinning widely. She started to sing again, in her childish soprano voice, singing an old rock song about the shortcomings of money. Sirius recognized it as a favorite of Lily's. He joined in at the chorus, and the other four grinned. Sirius realized then that these were more than friends. This was his true family, and he wouldn't let anyone take that from him.

BREAK

Kate sat in Remus's lap, looking through one of Meghan's photo albums. Ashley sat next to Harry, coloring in a book of fairy pictures and humming to herself. Sirius was sitting next to Harry with a cup of coffee, and Meghan sat behind him, reading from a novel about mice and other animals in an abbey. It was the next day.

Hermione started awake, sitting half-up before relaxing back onto her pillows. Ashley squealed and jumped up. Careful to be calm, she came up to Hermione and spoke quietly to the girl. "Are you feeling better, Mya?"

Hermione coughed, clearing her throat, and said shyly, "Yes, thank you, Ashley." Kate watched the interchange with a smile. Hermione looked at her, and brown and green-hazel eyes locked.

"How _are_ you feeling, love?" Kate asked. Hermione looked down, playing the hem of her blankets. "Just say it, please," Remus added.

"I'm loads better, thank you, ma'am, sir," she said very softly.

"Is there anything you need?" Kate pressed.

"No, ma'am."

"Any questions you have?" Remus asked. Hermione's head jerked up and she looked at Remus worriedly.

"Er, sir, I just wondered…how long would I be allowed to stay here?" She looked back down at her blankets. "Just that I should probably call my parents—"

"No, Mya," Kate said softly, but Ashley interrupted before she could finish.

"Aunt Katie and Uncle Remus said that you aren't going back to your parents' house, because you're going to stay here and be their little girl now!" she said excitedly. "You're going to be my cousin. You are, right, Mya?"

Hermione's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "I…I can stay?" she murmured. Remus smiled sadly. Those bastards had done quite a number on his little girl. He flushed slightly at his train of thought as he answered, "Yes, Mya, forever and ever." He held out a hand to the bedridden brunette, who timidly reached out her own hand until they were touching. He squeezed her hand lightly and let it drop. "We'll always be here for you."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she seemed to refuse to let them drop. Kate reached for the box of tissues on the table. "It's okay, love, go ahead and cry." She handed Hermione a tissue and lightly touched her shoulder before Hermione broke down into tears.

Sirius watched the scene with sorrowful eyes. Ashley saw, of course, perceptive as she was, and came over to hug him.

Suddenly, the black-haired body on the next couch stirred and made a few soft moaning noises. Ashley moved over from her father, her eyes trained on her cousin as he slowly rose back to the world of consciousness.

Harry's eyes slowly opened, and he looked into the concerned gray eyes of Ashley Black. He jumped and scooted back. "A—Ashley," he said shakily. "Hello." Ashley pulled away, realizing that Harry needed a lot more space than she had given him.

"Oh, sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to scare you," she said sorrowfully. "It's just that, you've been asleep for so long, and I wanted to say hello!" Harry relaxed slightly, then seemed to take in his surroundings. Sirius was watching him with a wondrously happy look on his face

"W-where am I?"

"Home," was all Sirius said, but that was all Harry needed to hear.

BREAK

A/N: Sorry!!!! Sorry for the wait! Honestly, I meant to finish chapter 9 like 4 months ago, but it just didn't happen. And you should all thank AJ, because without her I would never have been pressured to finish it. THANK YOU AJ!!! I love you! And PLEASE review and tell me what you thought please please please!

And now I'm back in the spirit of writing for these characters! That means it shouldn't take nearly as long for chapter 10.

In case you hadn't noticed, I really wanted to develop Ashley this chapter. She may seem a bit perfect, but I was just trying to get across that she's very people-oriented! Tell me how I did.

I promise to try to update sooner this time!! Reviews will help , actually probably not, but you can try, right?

Coming your way: Ashley-Sirius bonding, "therapy" of sorts for our two troubled children, and probably some more singing/music/and such. I'm a musical person, so I need that! 

Love, LysPotter xo

PS: I may be adding a new story ASAP. Please read Finding Freedom when it arrives! AJ, it's tut...should I post it??


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